


The Equation

by Banana_daiquiri



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Minor Violence, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 13:07:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 85,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3382637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Banana_daiquiri/pseuds/Banana_daiquiri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor and Rose have been separated at Canary Wharf. He travels alone and we finally see him with his mask off; he is heartbroken and volatile, trying to drown himself in work. Everywhere he looks he sees Rose...sometimes literally. Aliens, angst, and timey-wimey stuff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Day The World Went Away

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter contains dialogue from the episode "Doomsday." The only things I inserted are the potential thoughts behind what was said. Everything quoted from the show falls between these asterisks: *** and ***. Anything after the brackets was authored by me.  
> Title of Chapter 1 is inspired by the NIN song.

_"The plastic face forced to portray_  
 _all the insides left cold and gray._  
 _There is a place that still remains--_  
 _it eats the fear, it eats the pain._  
 _The sweetest price he'll have to pay;  
_ _the day the whole world went away."_

\--NIN, "The Day The World Went Away"

*******

The Doctor looks around. "Where are we? Where did the gap come out?"

"We're in Norway."

He nods. "Norway, right."

"About 50 miles out of Bergen. It's called...Darlig Ulv Stranden."

Alarm flickers through him. "Dalek???"

Rose almost rolls her eyes, bless her. "DaLIG. It's Norwegian for _bad_."

He simply looks at her. Understanding begins to dawn on his pained face. 

This translates as Bad Wolf Bay.

The irony of it is there. "Bad Wolf" was meant to lead Rose back to him, always. What has lead them to this? Has this been predetermined for them all along? He feels something in his chest curl in on itself. He smiles, a horribly sad smile. 

Rose tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, or tries. There's a wind coming off the water. "How long have we got?"

He stays steady. His voice, anyway. Inside there are all sorts of things he will have to confront later. "About two minutes."

Rose runs a hand back through her hair and seems to struggle with herself for a moment, silently. "I can't think of what to say." 

He laughs. He can't help it; it's that or cry. It does seem strange, knowing you only have just so much time. It puts unbearable pressure on the moment. Him, a Time Lord, but a slave to this. Two minutes. Burning up a star. He nods, a gesture to what is beyond Rose, farther back on the shore. "You've still got Mr. Mickey, then?" _Say yes,_ he thinks. _You can't need me, because I have to leave._

"There's five of us now," Rose says. Her eyes have never left his face, not for a second. "Mum, Dad, Mickey...and the baby."

He says softly, "You're not?" He would be happy for her if she was. Of course he would be; the miracle of life. His Rose. _No. No, not yours._

"No," Rose says, echoing all those "nos" in his head. She laughs. "It's Mum. She's three months gone. More Tylers on the way."

He would never admit that something loosens in him as she says this. "And what about you? Are you...." He wants to know how to think of her; how to remember her. Imagine her.

"Yeah, I'm--I'm back working in the shop." She's gauging his reaction.

"Oh, good for you," he says lightly. He so desperately wants more for her than that. She's just so damn _smart_ \--

Rose is smiling. There's a lot of smiling, a lot of laughter between them, even now...despite all this. They've laughed themselves through so many horrible things. "Shut up. No, I'm not. There's still a Torchwood on this planet, open for business."

He gives her a look of deep, perplexed concern. Torchwood, though.

"Think I know a thing or two about aliens," she adds.

If anyone can do it, she can. He graces her with his biggest smile, his undeniable faith in her blooming up in him larger than he can contain. "Rose Tyler, Defender of the Earth."

This stricken look won't leave her face. This burden. She looks about to say something.

"You're dead, officially, back home," he says quickly. She should know. "So many people died that day, and you've gone missing. You're on a list of the dead."

The tears haven't stopped flowing down her face since the moment she met him on the beach, but now they come harder. They come harder because she feels dead. Despite the fact that he isn't physically near her, he suddenly picks up on that one flash of her thoughts, that one broadcast. She's screaming it inside, how could he not hear? She presses a hand to her face.

_Oh Rose. I'll always hear you._ Likely he won't. But it feels painfully true at the moment.

"Here you are, living a life, day after day...the one adventure I can never have." He's delighted she's having it. He wants to remind her what a wonderful thing it is--life. Just this simple life. He knows he needs to reinforce this idea at the moment.

Rose sobs, revealing how small his encouragements are. "Am I ever going to see you again?" Her voice is tight, airless.

He can't do anything about those tears. He is collapsing on the inside like a dying star, but on the outside stays steady. Must be for her. "You can't," he says apologetically.

He can see her struggling to be brave. "What are you going to do?"

"Oh, I've got the TARDIS. Same old life, last of the Time Lords." He's trying out a cheery tone, trying to make light of this moment. One of their last moments. Ever. _Don't think about it--grit your teeth, you stupid git. Just do this right._

"On your own?"

He just looks at her. Nods. There's no one to replace her. Even before her, there was no one to replace her. She has always been, somewhere. Now is their time. Has been their time. He has always been waiting for it without even knowing it. But it has been so short. They're always too short, his periods of hope, of happiness. He just goes on fooling himself.

"I l--" Rose chokes on her words, bends almost in half, torn apart by what she's trying to say. She mentally braces herself while the Doctor watches, and she tries again. Her throat is swollen almost shut with emotion, but she has to get it out. She manages a breath. _"I love you!"_ It's almost a cry; it has such an edge of desperation that he stops breathing for a moment because he can feel how sharp it is.

The corner of his mouth twitches, but not in a smile. He's almost frozen with grief. His tongue feels like a piece of wood, but he says softly, "Quite right, too." He feels the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, threatening, and tries to hold on.

It's as close as he can come. Rose nods. Smiles. She knows. It's difficult, but she knows, and it will have to be enough for her.

He tries to take it further anyway. "And I suppose...if it's my last chance to say it...."

She gazes into his eyes. Needs. Waits.

"Rose Tyler...."

*******

The connection is broken.

Back on his TARDIS, tears track down the Doctor's face, which looks impossibly young. 

And there's no one to see it. He's alone, completely, again. He has been alone ever since Rose went to Pete's World. That means he's free to let the emotion overtake him, something he never does in the company of his human companions. Sometimes he wonders if he has spent too much time with them; he feels so terribly human, despite his age. Despite how indifferent he has been before, and should remain at this point. 

Calluses wear off if they aren't maintained. He hasn't put his to use for a while; he hadn't needed to.

He leans back against the TARDIS console, slides down it until he's sitting on the floor, feeling the warmth of the organic machinery pulsing at his back. He draws a ragged breath and finally has enough air to expel the sob that has been trying to rip him apart since the moment he saw Rose begin to cry. It's a terrible sound, and he's glad no one else can hear it. No one but the TARDIS, anyway. She knows, but she just hums quietly, not in tune with this sort of emotion. It isn't a very Time Lord emotion. More that of a man grieving over a lost love. A human man. So the TARDIS just lets him be.

"Fffff...." He hisses air, biting his lower lip. He balls his fist and hits the grating on the floor of the TARDIS, wanting to feel the anger but too distraught to conjure it. He lowers his forehead to the warm metal. His face is hot. How will he go on like this? He always picks himself up and goes on, but this time he doesn't want to. He suddenly feels every moment his age. ...When can he be done? He pictures Rose on that beach, tries to imagine what he would have done if he were more than a projection. What he might have said if he were more of a man in every sense. 

_But you can't. That's not your job._

This is one of those times when he isn't sure whether the thought is stemming from his own mind, or from the TARDIS herself. 

He pushes the thought away roughly, as though it is a physical, tangible thing. And tries again to imagine.

_What would I have done?_

He sees Rose standing before him, but nothing comes to him. Has he ever acted impulsively on his feelings? Really? On any feeling beyond anger, beyond his cleverness, beyond the need of a moment to be healed and his ability to do it? His mind flashes briefly to other companions he felt for strongly, most notably Sarah Jane, but even she fades away quickly. In each incarnation he is new, and what he feels then is felt most strongly.

Rose. There's only Rose. He is Rose's Doctor.

The tears are still coming. He knows the truth. The truth is that if he allowed himself to feel the things he wanted to, if he allowed himself to say the things he needed to, he'd never be able to go on like this. That's why Time Lords were made the way they were. Gallifreyans, even. Emotion was there, yes, but it wasn't primary in every thing like it was for humans.

Fuck Time Lords. Fuck Gallifreyan ways. He does feel what he feels. And why change, why go through all these changes, _if these things aren't important?_ Why HAVE emotion, why HAVE personality, why values and brains and timing and victory and defeat and loss...why any of it? But there are traps laid for him everywhere throughout time. Like losing Rose. Like Bad Wolf Bay. All the sense of destiny about it. Who is doing it??? Who is responsible??? Why isn't there someone to pay for any of this?

Maybe he is the one meant to pay. For the Time War. Somewhere inside he is sure of that. That has always served to cap his emotions. He doesn't even like to consider it.

But in this moment he is alone, and he loves her. He is free to love her, here, alone, and he loves her desperately. He wants to tell her that and never let go of her, her flashing smiles and her huge planetary eyes and her lovely teeth and unfalteringly optimistic demeanor, and her cleverness. Yes, her own certain cleverness, such a compliment to his own. She has never even seen what a monster he is, despite anything--has never wanted to leave him.

It's no use. Will never be.

In all the worlds, all the possibilities, all of time, he and Rose are not an equation. They have been an art, not a science. And it's all past tense now.

The Doctor is still on the floor, head down. He wipes his face with the back of one brown sleeve and sits up slowly, reluctantly. His whole body feels so heavy. 

He clasps his arms and rests his elbows on his knees, staring darkly across the console room, seeing nothing. Seeing everything. Tears still leak steadily from the corners of his eyes.

Forget what stubborness and ego have done to him before. He will find a way back to her. Somehow. 

He digs his fingernails into the undersides of his sleeves just above his elbows, hard. 

_Somehow, yes. He's just that clever._

The TARDIS spins through the dark vacuum of space, hurtling toward whatever it might find.


	2. High and Dry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The TARDIS takes the Doctor to an Earth-like planet where, while still grieving over Rose, he must figure out why the reflections of the inhabitant's loved ones--both alive and dead--are showing up in every available glass surface. Title of this chapter inspired by the Radiohead song.

_"Two jumps in a week; I bet you think that's pretty clever, don't you, boy?  
...You'd kill yourself for recognition; kill yourself to never, ever stop."_

\--Radiohead, "High and Dry"

*******

"Come on in now, Oscar, stop mucking about." Mrs. Hall was fixing the boy a sandwich, spreading grape jelly on a slice of cheap white bread, which was what he liked.

It was a lovely sunny day and Oscar was out in the garden in his swimming trunks, spraying off his muddy feet with the hose; he'd just got done playing in the mud like any proper eight-year-old. Only he was having too much fun--spraying his feet, then the bottom of the glass door, then her flowers, then a cat who made the mistake of trying to take a shortcut across their property.

Mrs. Hall knew he could hear her; the door was open a crack. If he wasn't careful, in fact, he was going to wet the whole floor of the kitchen. "Oscar! That's enough! Come on now, I said. You've got a dentist appointment in a bit and we'll be running late." 

No response. She looked up to see what he was up to. He was standing in the garden with the hose off. He was holding it limply in one hand, just grinning at her.

Mrs. Hall sighed and crossed the kitchen. She pulled the door back to go fetch him--

but he was gone. She stopped short at the threshold, still staring out at where he'd been a moment before. Even the hose was gone. "Wha--?"

"Oi Mum, I heard you," came a voice from behind her. "You don't have to shout."

Mrs. Hall turned around slowly and saw Oscar coming down the hallway. He was fully clothed and completely dry. He went to the counter, picked up his sandwich, and took a bite. Then he realized her eyes were still on him. He met her gaze, chewing slowly. "What's wrong?" he asked around his mouthful.

Mrs. Hill turned back around again and slowly slid the glass door shut. And then screamed.

Oscar was back out on the patio, laughing silently, fit to split.

*******

The Doctor was sleeping under the console. The hum of the TARDIS and the warmth of her had put him to sleep; it might even be suggested that she had influenced him to sleep, lulled him there. He didn't sleep much, ordinarily, but his mind had simply needed to shut down. He was on overload. Just as a metal oxide varistor in a power surge protector works to protect electronic devices from receiving too much voltage, the TARDIS did her best to ground him when things got overwhelming and he was close enough for her to do so, as long as it wouldn't impact his ability to function in a dangerous situation. Little known fact.

Anyway. He was asleep and dreaming. Something about New New York, and cats. Lots of cats everywhere. And Rose? 

He twitched in his sleep, made a soft noise.

Suddenly, the TARDIS leaned sharply to the left, and the sound of its bottom scraping along an alien surface filled the console room. The Doctor bolted up, struggled to his feet, and began flicking levers and pushing buttons to try to soften his landing. Humans and coffee. Who needed coffee? Try waking up like this and you'd be alert.

He came to a sudden, but not too jarring, stop. For a moment he just stood there at the console, staring at the doors. He didn't want to go out.

_Chances are you're needed out there. Get yourself together. Besides, Rose wouldn't want to see you cowering like this; certainly not because of her. She'd be horrified, ashamed of you._

That got him moving, but he took a second to glance up at the time rotor. "Thanks," he said, and meant it.

Then he went and flung the doors open, glanced around, and stepped out, pulling the door shut behind him. He was in a small park, with a few benches and an adequate playground setup for children and the standard amount of tree life casting the right amount of shade, but other than that he wasn't sure where he was. He took a deep breath of the air, held it, analyzed it, and finally exhaled. "Sytor." He wrinkled his nose. "Sytor? What am I doing on Sytor?"

Of all the most Earth-like planets, you didn't get much closer than this. Well, nevermind that. It wasn't Earth. And he hadn't been on Sytor for a very, very long time. They had a pretty good defense system, a lot of security checks in place, so what could they need him for? In fact, they might not be too happy about him being here if they found out. They were proud like that.

And then he heard it--a scream. He looked off in the direction it had come from and pinpointed a house. He took off running in that direction, coat flapping, and patted his pocket for his sonic. Had to make sure he hadn't left it behind.

It was very good at unlocking doors.

*** * ***

As it turned out, he didn't need to unlock any doors. This one was partially open, and glass, and he could see its owner right through it, looking fairly horrified but no longer screaming. Actually, the closer he got to the door, the more confused she looked.

He slid the door back.

"And who are YOU, now?" The woman was indignant.

"I'm the Doctor, who are you?" he asked just as rudely.

"Doctor of what?"

"That's a new one."

Her whole face wrinkled with confusion. "New what?" 

"Question," he muttered. "Nevermind." He put his fists on his hips, surveyed the kitchen. The woman, a boy, a jelly sandwich. "What were you screaming about, anyhow?"

"The garden."

"It is a bit of a mess."

"No, you dolt! HE was..." she pointed to her son, then stopped, seeming unsure how to continue her thought. "He was here but he was there." She pointed past the Doctor, out the door. "But then I opened the door and he wasn't there and then he was behind me and then when I closed the door he was back there again."

The Doctor was squinting at her, nodding, somehow following every word perfectly. "Yeah okay. That could be something. Good reason to scream."

"Thank you," she said, genuine. She just looked at him for a beat. "I mean...again, who are you?"

The Doctor sighed.

*** * ***

The Doctor completed a thorough scan of the house with his sonic, Mrs. Hill and her son padding along behind him the entire time. Mrs. Hill was an open-mouth breather when she concentrated. The Doctor had a theory that this was the sign of someone who couldn't quite get enough air to their brain most of the time. It didn't bode well.

"What's that thing?" The boy asked. 

"The coolest toy in the universe." 

The boy reached toward it.

"It's not a toy, don't touch it!" The Doctor pulled it back, somewhat possessively. 

"But you said--"

"It bites," the Doctor snapped, and the boy quickly tucked his hand behind his back, eyes wide.

"Hmm." The Doctor leaned toward a mirror, stared into it thoughtfully. He pulled his glasses out of his pocket and put them on to get a better look. "Strange." He licked the glass.

"I wouldn't do that, I haven't cleaned it in a while," said Mrs. Hill.

"So I taste." The Doctor brushed his tongue off, smacking his lips. Fuzz. "But that's not all I taste. There's alien residue. The sonic doesn't pick up on it much, but it's definitely here." He smacked the sonic into his palm a few times as though a jolt might get it working again. "Why is that? Why doesn't it pick it up?"

The sound of mouth-breathing. The smell of it, too.

And then another scream, ear-piercing, from somewhere close by.

*** * ***

Neighbor's house, same story. Only it got even more peculiar. This witness, as the Doctor thought of her, was a teenage girl who had also seen someone in a mirror--only she'd seen her father, who was five years dead, standing behind her. Traces of that same, strange, slightly minty residue. The Doctor sincerely hoped he wasn't licking spattered toothpaste off these people's mirrors.

The witness was quite distraught to say the least. She clung to the Doctor's jacket and snotted on the front. The Doctor patted her on the head absent-mindedly, thinking. 

"Glass. Any glass, not just mirror-glass. Window glass, table glass..." he swiped his eyeglasses off his face with one hand and looked down at them in contemplation. "Eyeglasses." He looked up and around, realizing the scale of the problem. "Fffff..." _kid in the room--_ "...iddle sticks."

He left the distraught girl and exited through the front door of the house. People had started to gather outside on their sidewalks, chatting anxiously with one another, hardly taking note of the Doctor. They were too concerned about what was going on in their homes. The Doctor turned left and right, surveying. He saw an old, bald gentleman stamping his glasses out on the sidewalk the way one might a fag end.

"Oh come on...." The Doctor pulled at his hair, frustrated with his slow brain, and stalked back into the Hill's house. Mrs. Hill was on his heels at once like an anxious dog. "I keep seeing people! In everything! Old friends, my relatives...some of them dead! Doctor...." she pawed at his sleeve, "what in the bloody hell is going on?"

The Doctor ignored her and instead began pacing through the house, in and out of rooms, looking, scanning, thinking. "Why do they use mirrors? Because they don't have a form of their own. They borrow, they mirror. Think think think...."

He caught a flash of something in his upper peripheral vision and raised his head to gaze into the tacky mirrored door in Mrs. Hill's bedroom. The Doctor might have wondered about such a door, ordinarily, and its myriad of profane uses which he really didn't care to consider, but not now. His blood ran cold. Rose was in the mirror.

She waved at him, a waggle of the fingers, and even bit one corner of her lip, looking mischievous and pleased.

The Doctor's hand went nerveless and he didn't even notice when the sonic slipped from his grasp and fell to the carpet with a dull thud.

"Rose?" The impossible sadness bloomed in his chest again--it was a sudden sensation, as though someone had thrown water on him. He walked over to the mirror, and, without thinking, reached toward it to touch her. A nanosecond before contact he realized what he was doing and pulled his hand back, as if from a fire. 

He closed his eyes and turned his head, remembering to breathe. "Loved ones, okay, loved ones. But they aren't really here. Oh. Ooooooh," he hissed, and looked into the mirror again. Even though he expected what he saw, both of his hearts skipped beats--not with love, but with anxiety. "Such a good likeness, though," he said softly, triumphantly...angrily. "But I see a flaw in your logic. Because my love for Rose is never false." He smiled coldly. "But I know what you are, now--thanks for that." He remembered his sonic and bent to swipe it off the carpet.

Rose cocked her head to one side, looking suddenly worried. She raised her hand and gnawed on one of her nails.

"Yeah that's right, I'm the Doctor. And you've really started to tick me off." The Doctor turned on his heel and walked swiftly out of the room, resisting the temptation to look at her for just a while longer, lie or no lie.

Mrs. Hill was in the hallway. "So?" she asked anxiously.

"Redecorate," the Doctor said, breezing by her.

"No, really!" she cried, grabbing his elbow.

He turned toward her, hands shoved in his pockets. "Okay, simply put: what you're seeing are Ochlos. They're aliens, duh. These things are on another planet but they're just sort of smoke really. That's why the sonic couldn't properly detect them." He rolled his eyes up toward the ceiling and nodded. "Basically, they astral project themselves here and borrow the images of your loved ones, alive and or dead--" he looked right at her-- "yes, 'and or'--and they feed in this way that they feed. But all they are is light, you see. A mirror reflects light off an object, but since there IS no object in this case, you only see them in the glass. (They can't graduate to water, thank god.) And since a mirror reads back to front and not side to side...which is why your features are reversed in a mirror by the way...there's an easy way to defeat them."

"Yeah? And how's that already?" She huffed impatiently.

"Boy you're rude, I don't know why I picked you to explain this to. Suppose I'll tell you anyway--you show a mirror to the mirror. Or bit of glass, or whatever the thing is hiding in. These beings work on opposites; they don't eat love, they eat the false idea of love. They're literally eating the false love you feel when you view your friend, dead uncle, or former-almost-lover-trapped-irrevocably-in-a-parallel-universe-who-you-bollocksed-everything-up-with. So to destroy these things you need to create a paradox in their minds. You reflect them back at themselves and they see everything in reverse, or rather correctly--and it destroys them, essentially, robs them of their power. Like so." He turned away and ran down the stairs to Mrs. Hall's kitchen, Mrs. Hall awkwardly hurrying down the stairs behind him.

The Doctor slid across the kitchen floor, whipped a compact mirror out of his pocket, and slid the glass door closed. He flashed the little mirror at it, and Oscar's doppelganger let out a thin scream. Steam rose off the glass, and the creature disappeared.

The Doctor blew on his compact mirror as though it was the barrel of a smoking gun, which was pointless, because the only thing smoking was the glass door. "It'll take a while to get rid of them, but they're easily taken care of."

"These Ochos...where do they come from? If they're there, and not really here, then why don't you just go there and kill 'em off?"

The Doctor turned around and regarded Mrs. Hill. He blinked slowly and decided to let the idiotic mispronunciation go.

"Well for starters, I don't do genocide. But they're from a planet called Nachem. All that's on the planet are eggs, which hatch in cycles of every 30 years or so. The parents of these things travel around in their own ship, keeping to themselves until they need something, but the babies are babies--uninhibited tricksters. They aren't really evil--it's just that sometimes the things they do happen to be evil, and they find fear to be funny. So they find a way to get what they need--astral projection, for instance--feed on emotion, fatten up, and then beam themselves to their mother-ship with their new-found energy. This is how they prove to Mummy and Daddy that they've earned their stripes and can now cruise around space, generally excelling in being dishonest wherever they go. But--"

the Doctor held up his mirror--

"when they see this they get cut off. They're creatures of opportunity, so when things get too difficult for them they just leave. They dissolve; they go back to their planet in disgrace, and they're outcasts. They remain there, essentially peasants who can never wander the stars." The Doctor fell silent. "Sad really," he mumbled to himself. 

Mouth breathing. "What if we just let them be?"

"Then they'll terrorize people for a while, cause more emotional harm than anyone wants to experience, get nice and fat off from it, and join their no-good parents for a joyride around the universe to spread misery." Really he felt almost as bad for them as he did for the people forced to view loved ones they could no longer connect with. These Ochlos were just babies, after all, doing what they did for Mom and Dad's approval. And what an odd place for the TARDIS to bring him; this hardly qualified as an emergency. Still, he was somewhat in the position to understand exactly why what they were doing was so torturous for these people, wasn't he? His hand, back in his coat pocket, squeezed his sonic almost hard enough to break it.

"Tell your neighbors how to defeat them. And then the world," he added lightly, looking thoughtful. "I'll be going now. On second thought," he said, all in one breath, and dashed back up the stairs.

He reentered the bedroom and looked, and there she was, as though she'd been waiting for him to return. She raised her hands and placed them against her side of the glass, her eyes dark. And then, very slowly, making him feel as though he was watching it all happen in a dream, she placed her left cheek against the mirror, her face a vision of sadness.

_Canary Wharf._

As if in a trance, the Doctor went to the glass and leaned against it, closing his eyes. His right cheek rested on the cool mirror, his hand moving to settle over hers, palm to palm. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so, so sorry." 

He stayed that way for a long moment, and then backed reluctantly away. Rose backed away simultaneously, as though she was his own reflection. They looked into each other's eyes. Deadpan, the Doctor raised his mirror and flashed it.

Rose's mouth opened as if in a scream, and then she was gone. Smoke. 

The Doctor strode casually to the bedside table, picked up an ugly glass paperweight, and heaved it with all his strength into the closet door.


	3. You Only Need to Choose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the Doctor--so lonely and desolate he hardly resembles himself--manages to free an alien race he knows little about from slavery, he is offered a reward: something he desires more than anything else.
> 
> Edit: In a creepy twist, I have only just now learned (after finishing this story) of the "Mirrorlings" presented in the Doctor Who comic. This story was not based on any knowledge of that one.

_"Don't look don't look," the shadows breathe,  
whispering me away from you.  
"Don't wake at night to watch her sleep;  
you know that you will always lose  
this trembling, adored,  
tousled, bird-mad girl..." _

\- Burn, The Cure

***

The Doctor was showering in a dingy little bathroom in a shabby hotel on Kor Kistra. He swept a long lock of wet brown hair back from his face and reached for his shampoo.

Well, to be honest, it wasn't really his.

He flipped the cap open and poured some of the honey-colored liquid into his hand. He smiled ruefully as he began lathering it into his hair, wondering what the bloody hell he was doing to himself still using Rose's things.

She had been obsessed with shampoos, soaps, gels, body lotions, anything bath-related. She collected them at almost every planet they visited.

"How many showers can you take?" The Doctor had asked once, half amused and half irritated because he wanted to get back into the Vortex and all she could do was sniff bottle after bottle of pastel-colored liquid.

"Two words," Rose said, giving him a sidelong but pointed look. "Vanta Five."

She was referring to a planet in which they'd mucked through a swamp full of tar-black liquid for two days straight before finding the rare plant they were looking for. When they'd arrived back at civilization they had been informed that what they had been wading through was about ten year's worth of Millin vomit. Millins were large lizard-creatures that apparently found vomit very appealing when it was time to breed. It had taken them both five days of obsessive showering to get all the remnants--not to mention the smell--of the muck off themselves.

 _Should have showered together and accomplished it in half the time,_ the Doctor thought, but grimly. He thought briefly about trying to conjure that image, but found that he couldn't. He was too depressed even for a wank. Not that Time Lords did that sort of thing often anyway.

The scent of jasmine wafted around him. He didn't even mind that he'd walk around smelling flowery like her all the next day--though once or twice he'd given a male of one species or another the wrong idea. Truth be told, he didn't care about much these days.

For instance, it had been three months since Sytor, and he had been here for a week; longer than he normally spent on a mission. Part of it was the food; Kor K had excellent barlashanifashti. And bananas--completely excellent, common Earth-type bananas. Which was funny, since here on Kor K they weren't even aware of Earth. One of those things to ponder: common fruits. Hmm.

But the real reason for the length of the trip was that he was alarmingly off his game. It hadn't taken him long to realize why he was here: there was a black market on this planet which did very brisk business in the sale of Moorsies, which were tiny creatures who the Doctor had known little about before his arrival. From what he had been able to glean, they were from Kor Kistra's most distant moon, a little rock called Tava. Moorsies burrowed under the surface and lived in an underground structure which, if it could be seen, would look a lot like an ant farm. They were hairy brown creatures with huge black eyes and four legs, capable of walking like bipeds, though that wasn't their favorite way to go about their business. Put simply, they were adorable. That wasn't the main reason for their popularity, however; they were highly intelligent, hard-working, and quite docile. It didn't take much to get them to do anyone's bidding. Which was also what made them illegal. Most planets recognized that it was completely immoral to employ a Moorsie, as it could and would not defend itself. Kor K was no different in this; Moorsies were most definitely illegal for sale or trade. Those who were interested in Moorsies usually bred them in secret and sold them to other planets, or experimented on them for product testing, or simply kept them for housekeeping. The Doctor found their enslavement offensive, to say the very least. The idea of it twisted his insides into knots; these creatures weren't even allowed to mind their own business and lead a peaceful existence. Typical of the universe.

It was really no wonder the Doctor didn't know much about Moorsies; there had never been an official study done on them, as many people viewed them as inconsequential. The Doctor had to begrudgingly admit to himself that he had never spared them much thought before now either, despite his current outrage at their plight.

He had one simple goal here: find out who was behind the import--and subsequent clandestine export--of the Moorsies, and put an end to it. He had been chasing leads for days and couldn't seem to pinpoint who was responsible, although he had quite sufficiently "convinced" many of the people profiting off the illegal trade to cease what they were doing.

The Doctor finished soaping and rinsing all his bits, turned the shower off, and grabbed his towel. He ruffled his hair with it, patted the rest of himself dry, and secured the towel around his waist. He exited the steamy bathroom and flopped unceremoniously onto his dingy bed. It creaked and didn't bounce back.

After a while he rolled onto his side, his gaze falling across the empty expanse of the left side of the bed. Did every bed in this place have to be a double? For that matter, why couldn't he break the habit of sleeping on the right side? He should be sprawling out like a proper bachelor, as he would have once done.

It was particularly odd that he couldn't stop sleeping on the right side since he hadn't often shared a bed with Rose, and had never thought twice about it when he had. Well, okay...so he'd been aware she was there. But he never would have admitted that he liked her closeness, the sweet smell of her...and her warmth at his back. He was Gallifreyan and therefore he ran cold, so he was able to feel that heat all the more intensely. How long had he spent on those nights just staring at her as she slept, letting his eyes wander over her hair, the curve of her hip, all while telling himself that he was thinking about something else? But, yes, her scent. He couldn't quite put a name on that scent, hadn't smelled anything like it since he'd been cut off from her, despite using her soaps. It was something about her skin, he reflected now, feeling ill on the inside.

The worst of it? Even if he had her here with him right now, he couldn't change anything. He was lovesick like a kid, and for no good reason. He let his arm fall, hand up and palm open, into the empty space beside himself. He could hear his own breathing. 

The worst part was this; these nights, now. He never slept, but found himself uncharacteristically tired, in need of rest he never found. He was angry at himself; he wanted to put an end to what was happening to the Moorsies, and as quickly as possible. But here he was, night after night, incapacitated with exhaustion instead of taking advantage of the dark to have a good look around.

The things he had resorted to! If he could laugh anymore he might, remembering how two days prior he'd gone to have his tea leaves read. A stick-like woman with hair like dried mud had stared into his empty cup and then bared her teeth at him in a most disconcerting, skeletal way. She shook her head. Apparently that was as close as she could come to a sympathetic gesture. "You are looking for something you will not find," the woman said. She lowered her gaze and set the cup down between them. "But she has not forgotten you."

The Doctor had paid her without glancing at her again, feeling foolish, ready to forget he had ever ducked into her shop. He hurried away covertly, feeling as though he'd just paid a prostitute. A Time Lord trying to catch a psychic glimpse of the future! It really was disgraceful. This was what he had become; an intelligent being, perhaps essentially obsolete to all but himself, scurrying around the universe doing what he could to feel like less of an ass, but pitying himself for the things he couldn't have; meanwhile, he'd destroyed his own people. 

The Doctor closed his eyes and tried to give himself over to sleep. Tomorrow, he vowed, he would put an end to this mission and move on.

***

Sleep must have won at some point, because the next thing the Doctor knew, it was light outside. And someone was knocking on his door. He woke up as he had left off the night before, which meant he was lying in a towel which was still slightly damp. He let the towel fall as he got up and snatched his robe off the overstuffed armchair beside the bed.

The Doctor crossed the room and opened the door on a blond-haired boy, about fifteen years old. "I've got something," the kid said.

"Yeah, Toby, what is it?" The Doctor asked joylessly. 

Toby just looked at him for a moment. He didn't even know the Doctor--outside of one or two conversations, anyway--and apparently he knew something was up with the man's flat hair, his dark eyes. Anyone can tell when the sunlight is gone.

"Uh, it's a lead...you know." Toby looked around behind him. "On that thing you wanted to know about."

"Very good. Give me a minute." The Doctor closed the door and slowly got dressed in his brown suit and trainers. He half-heartedly snatched up his sonic from the night table and carried it with all the importance of a toothbrush as he went and opened the door again. "Let's go."

"Me?" Toby looked nervous; he'd obviously only anticipated that he might fill the Doctor in on what he knew.

The Doctor just walked past him, sparing him a flat and tired look. "Does it look like there's anyone else here?"

***

Toby was looking at him hard in the darkness of their cramped hiding place. 

The Doctor looked at him sidelong for a moment, then rolled his eyes and looked forward. He wasn't even going to ask.

"Are you all right?" Toby asked, looking extremely perplexed. 

"Funny thing to ask a person you don't know. Maybe I'm like this all the time."

"It's just a funny feeling I've got. But I don't think you are. Like this all the time, that is."

"Shhh. The only thing making me unhappy right now," the Doctor whispered, "is that sometimes people don't know when to shut up. Hint, hint."

Toby buttoned his lip. The two continued to watch.

They were in a warehouse hiding in an old wooden crate with a bunch of crap piled in front of it. They had a clear view, however, of the room beyond the crap. And according to Toby, this was where the bulk of the Moorsie business took place.

The Doctor yawned. 

The next thing he knew, Toby was shaking his shoulder. "Are you really falling asleep right now?"

"Mmm?" The Doctor came slowly to attention. "Yeah sorry. This is just particularly boring compared to a normal day at the office. I remember the good old days, running from blood-thirsty mannequin people--"

Toby elbowed him. There were voices approaching.

Three men came into view, chatting amongst themselves. One of them strode across the room and hit a button. A large, metal bay door rolled noisily open, revealing the air ship which was hovering outside. As the Doctor and Toby watched, a tiny figure in the doorway of the air ship began tossing boxes down to the three men.

The Doctor watched the boxes somersault through the air. "Fuck's sake, what do they think they're transporting, apples???"

Toby regarded him cluelessly. "What's an apple?"

The Doctor shook his head--so much for common fruits. He got ready to move into position. "I'm coming up behind them. I'm not sure if they've got weapons, so you stay here."

"What am I with you for then?"

"To keep me from falling asleep," the Doctor mumbled dismissively, almost to himself.

"Isn't there something I can do?" Toby hissed as the Doctor inched away, keeping his eyes on the three men.

"Can you become a gorgeous blonde in a purple coat?"

"What?"

"Nah, I didn't think so. Stay put."

***

The best part of wearing trainers: you can sneak around almost silently in a warehouse. The Doctor wove lithely between boxes and over various bits of detritus, almost without sparing a glance at the floor. Soon, he was close enough to watch the men as one of them worked at a box with a prisebar. The Doctor stood on tip-toe, trying to see better.

"Aaaah, fuck!" The man with the prisebar had injured himself getting the lid of the box to open. As the Doctor watched, little tan fingers curled over the lip of the box, and a fuzzy brown head with very big and very scared black eyes peered over.

"Nah you don't, get back in there!" One of the other men pounded at the Moorsie's little fingers and it disappeared back into the box with a plaintive squeal.

The Doctor grit his teeth. Bastards. He reached swiftly into an inner pocket of his coat and grabbed his schizard bomb. Hardly bothering to aim, he skipped it deftly across the floor toward the men and it chipped apart, spilling forth the pink goo that resided within it. The goo promptly set about leaping across the floor in ropes, closing the short distance between itself and the men, and began to tangle them up like a bunch of pathetic creatures who've fallen into a tar pit.

The Doctor stepped out from his hiding place just as the goo reached the men's faces, filling their mouths and effectively gagging them. 

"Toby," the Doctor called over his shoulder without looking around, his eyes fixed on the open box of Moorsies and the poor creatures huddled inside, "if you haven't figured out by now that you're to call the police, you're dumber than a fork in a bowl of noodle soup."

He heard the boy scramble off from behind his boxes to find an officer, or at least a phone. 

The Doctor stepped over the men, who were helpless on the floor, and peered into the box. "Don't worry," he said into the upturned, frightened faces (some of which were bleeding, no doubt from being jostled). "You're safe. This won't ever happen to you again."

***

"Thanks, Doctor. We've been trying to crack these guys for a long time, but they're always moving around, never in the same place twice. Crafty, they are. How'd you find them?"

The Doctor watched as the men were escorted into a carriage, their wrists bound. They were still mostly covered in goo. That stuff would hold on for a while. He shook his head, not looking at the officer. "Nah. Wasn't me, it was him." He tipped his head toward Toby, who gaped and shook his head.

While the boy was being congratulated and thanked, the Doctor took his leave quietly.

***

He was packing up the few items in his room when he heard something at his window. He looked up, expecting to see a bird or wild animal, and was stunned at what he saw there instead. He hurried over and unlatched the window, letting the Moorsie in. "Hey there, friend...what are you doing here?"

The Moorsie blinked at him as it hauled itself over the sill and fell into the armchair. It righted itself with difficulty and stood regarding him solemnly, all of a foot tall. "I came to give thanks where thanks are due, on behalf of all of us, Doctor."

The Doctor crossed his arms over his chest, perplexed. "How do you know who I am?" He tilted his head and quirked an eyebrow, adding under his breath, "I hardly even knew about you...first time for everything I 'spose." 

The Moorsie was silent for a moment. "We do not wish to be known," it finally said. 

"Couldn't keep yourself hidden from regular folk, though?"

The Moorsie pursed its thin lips. "We didn't think we needed to hide, at first."

The Doctor decided to let it go. He wasn't here to find out how this happened--only to set it right. "I'm so sorry this happened to you," he said earnestly.

"It will be remedied." The Moorsie sat in the chair. It looked tired. "But we owe you a great debt, and we intend to repay it."

"Nonsense." The Doctor waved the Moorsie away and turned back to his things.

"We will not be denied, Doctor. We owe you a debt and we mean to repay it," the Moorsie said. "We can give you something that you need."

The Doctor didn't even turn around. "There's no remedy for what I need," he said softly.

"But we can give you time," the Moorsie said.

The Doctor froze for a moment, then turned and looked at the Moorsie with great interest, a chill running down the back of his neck. This was turning into something. Depending on the turn this conversation was about to take, he might need to learn much more about the Moorsies...and quickly. What did it mean, time?

"Time with someone you love," the Moorsie said, as if answering his thought. "Anyone."

The Doctor sat on the edge of the bed, feeling weak. "What do you mean?"

The Moorsie clasped its little hands together and gazed back at him soberly. "You are traveling alone, and that you do not do, Doctor. Your heart is broken. We can not give you back what you have lost, but we can remedy it for a day. We will give you a day outside of time."

The Doctor was shaking his head, in awe. "You can't do that."

"We will."

"How?" The Doctor's mind was racing. It was an impossibility. And even if it were possible...the conundrums it could create! And were they really capable of this? If they were, surely it was impossible that he hadn't heard more about these Moorsies sooner.

"You are the healer of time, Doctor. You carry many burdens. You alone will remember the contents of your selected day."

Oh. _Oh._ "You...you can really do that?"

The Moorsie nodded.

"And she'll never remember?" The Doctor was half upset at the idea, half desperately afraid. If he did this, and she could remember...if there was any chance she could remember...this could be bad. Very, very bad.

"Eventually," the Moorsie granted, "she will remember. She will remember when she needs to most."

The Doctor again shook his head. "I just...I just don't understand."

"You do not need to, Doctor. You only need to choose."

The Doctor ran his hands down his face, taking a deep breath. He looked at the Moorsie over the tips of his fingers for a long moment, then let his hands fall in his lap. He was frightened of how reckless he felt at this moment. He knew he could be about to make a colossal mistake. But it wouldn't be his first.

"Okay," he said softly. 

He chose.


	4. A Day Outside of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor is given a gift he'll never forget--one special day. Of course, we all know who he'll choose to spend it with. Takes place right after "The Satan Pit." Explicit sex in this chapter. Enjoy! ;) Reviews/criticisms always welcome. Obviously, NSFW.

_"In this place it seems like such a shame.  
Though it all looks different now,  
I know it's still the same...._

—Something I Can Never Have, NIN

***

The Doctor's hearts were pounding. He was feeling a million things at once, mainly joy—but fear, too. The fear was crippling. He couldn't pinpoint exactly why he should be so afraid. This was Rose, and he knew Rose well.

And he knew, now, that she loved him. She had told him so, even if she didn't know that yet.

Any minute, now, she'd walk through that door. He had just returned Ida to the rocket and the sanctuary base six team, and they were giving Rose back to him. 

Although he had lived this day quite some time ago he remembered it all vividly. He had the memory of an elephant. The only time said memory ever got obscured was after a regeneration...then, he might lose all sorts of things. But while in the middle of one of his lives? Steel trap, his brain. And that made all of this feel like a play.

Only he was about to change the script.

He heard a noise, and all the air in his chest became painful, respiratory bypass or not. 

Rose burst in through the TARDIS door, looking frantic, as though she half expected that he might not be there after all. One corner of the Doctor's mouth slowly curled up in a smile which lit his whole face. 

Wordlessly, Rose ran up the ramp. She couldn't possibly know it, but she was running straight into the past—or the future—and this moment, beautiful as it had been and was, held ten million times more meaning for the Doctor.

He rushed forward to meet her and caught the beautiful weight of her, lifting her in his arms and raising her right up off the floor. She let out a pleased cry, almost a groan as she squeezed him tightly. He swayed with her, knowing in a moment he would have to put her down, but wanting this moment to last. Freeze time right here—this was it. He felt the tears spring to his eyes.

He wanted to throw the script out. For the sake of everyone else involved, however, he stuck with it for now.

The Doctor set Rose down on the grating, only he didn't let her go as he had the first time. She tried to back away as she normally would have but he kept her fast in the circle of his arms. She grinned at him, obviously surprised, but not minding. She gave him her best tongue-touched grin. 

Never taking his eyes from her face, the Doctor addressed the sanctuary base six team over the open channel. "Zack, we'll be off now. Have a good trip home. And the next time you get curious about something..." this time, instead of feeling disgust, he just grinned. Oh, he grinned like a right fool. All this living on the edge—humans were the masters of it! They didn't even have the benefit of a regeneration or two! And didn't that make their lives even sweeter? He wondered if they thought so; after witnessing them for so long he certainly could have made the argument that their noble actions in times of distress dictated it was so. For the best of them, at least. "Oh, what's the point? You'll just go blundering in." He shook his head, still gazing into Rose's eyes. "The human race." 

She continued to grin at him, and impulsively threw her arms about his neck again. He buried his nose in her hair, smelled her, breathing in as deeply as he could. This could become dangerous quickly if he didn't let her go. This time when she pulled back, he reluctantly let her. They both went to the console, and he stuck fast to Rose's side. He simply wasn't going to let her any farther than two inches from him.

Ida's voice came through. "But, Doctor, what did you find down there? That creature—what was it?"

He'd replayed this conversation in his dreams many times since losing Rose. Rassilon, had he. He had to suppress his mirth as he answered, "I don't know. Never did decipher that writing. But that's good. Day I know everything, might as well stop." Oh, but he knew some things right now. It was bittersweet. His smile finally started to die down.

Rose was looking at him, a bit nervously. He had to remember that this was still one hundred percent the present, for her. "What do you think it was, really?"

The Doctor looked down at the controls. "I think...we beat it. That's good enough for me." In many ways, that was still his real answer. He didn't know _what_ that thing had been. 

"It said I was gonna die in battle," Rose pressed.

He felt the same exact emotion sweep through him as had the first time—anger and a fierce protectiveness. "Then it lied." And it was true. She hadn't died, he reminded himself firmly. She was recorded as dead on her home planet, sure, but she was alive. Brilliantly alive. She may as well be able to regenerate, as she was never going to leave him—not in spirit. 

He looked up at her, and they smiled softly at each other. He was glad to see Rose take some comfort in his words.

"Right!" The Doctor pulled out his best bravado. "Onwards, upwards. Ida, see you again, maybe."

"I hope so," she responded.

Rose grinned and called, "And thanks boys!"

Ida's voice came through once again, asking her question. That question. He couldn't wait to answer. "Hang on though, Doctor..you never really said. You two...who are you?"

He gazed at Rose again, already beginning a game plan for what was going to happen once this call ended. "Oh...the stuff of legend."

Rose smiled at him as he cut off communication with the other ship. For a long moment the smile held, until she said, "I thought I'd be here without you. Wherever they were taking me, I thought that would be it." 

He could see her trying to keep a stiff upper lip. He swept her into his arms and whispered fervently against her ear, "Do you have so little faith in me, Rose? I will find you wherever you are. Always."

She gathered the back of his space suit in one fist, clutching him tightly. 

After a long moment he pulled back to look into her face fully. "For a while there I _had_ lost you. I really had." He struggled for a moment to hold back the tears, but then lost. Suddenly and soundlessly, he cried.

"Oh, what is it??" Rose cried, alarmed. "I'm right here!"

The Doctor ran his hands into her hair, cupping her head, and gazed at her intensely, more serious than he'd ever been with her in a moment when their lives weren't in danger. There was no space station, no Satan Pit, no Laws of Time, none of that. He wasn't even the Doctor, not right now. They were just two people and he was looking at the woman he loved, and he saw both confusion and growing fear in her eyes. He hoped with all his might that he was about to soothe it. "You do know that I'm in love with you, Rose Tyler?" He asked softly, trying not to let his breath hitch with the tears that were still falling.

She froze. She just looked at him, her mouth slightly open, and her lips moved a bit...but no sound came out. The confusion and fear in her eyes slowly changed to shock. "I...." she stared at his mouth as if doubting what she'd just heard come out of it, and he took advantage of the moment to bend and press his lips to hers in a chaste kiss, giving her time to absorb what was happening.

For an interminable amount of time—three long seconds, maybe—she made no move. Then she responded, pressing herself into him, her lips taking hold of his warmly, and every part of her seemed to mold itself to him. He ran his hands down through her hair, down her back. Her hands roamed aimlessly over his back as well, all over, as though she didn't know where to begin. He parted his lips and breathed into her mouth softly just before deepening the kiss, growing bolder. He let his hands slip lower, down to her bottom, and pressed her into him. He couldn't help it—his hands seemed to have minds of their own. How had he ever wasted a moment with her? Whether he might live several thousand more years or not, life was uncertainty, wasn't it? Why had he let any rule hold him back when he loved her so much? It was all so tragically fucked now, in retrospect. 

Rose finally broke the kiss, but only to smooth the tears from his cheeks with her soft lips. "You do?" She murmured softly against his skin. 

"Yes, Rose." He grinned almost painfully. "Yes, I really do, and I'm so sorry I ever let there be any doubt about that." He kissed her forehead, squeezing his eyes closed for a moment. 

Rose laughed a watery laugh, crying herself, but trying to stop. "Oh Doctor...." She nuzzled her face into his neck and he felt the wetness of her tears there. "I love you too. I think I've loved you from the moment I met you."

"Well," he said playfully, "I think I loved _you_ before that." Without the slightest trace of irony he added, "I'd go back in time just to love you more, actually."

She laughed hard then, pulling back from him enough to look him full in the face. They clutched each other's arms and just laughed giddily for a moment. Finally, Rose sobered enough to say, "Quite a change of heart, Doctor...I never woulda...I never woulda thought you'd say it, even if you felt it...just how close did you come down there?"

He didn't answer. He felt the darkness descend over him, and knew she could see it in his eyes. "Too close," he said. "Close enough I almost had Ida tell you for me...but I couldn't do that. I couldn't tell someone else to tell you I loved you. Gave me something to live for, anyway. I had to get back here and say it myself." And that was the truth if ever he'd told the truth.

She raised her hand to his cheek, ran the ball of her thumb softly underneath his left eye, sweeping the last bit of his tears from under his damp lashes. 

The Doctor's breath caught in his chest momentarily as the air between them changed, became electric. They were alone, they'd had a close call, and now it was all out in the open. He worked to keep his desire for her under control—he'd had time to think about this. Obsessively, in fact. But it was still new to her.

"What if we had really been stuck there, without the TARDIS?" Rose whispered.

The Doctor looked away for a moment, overcome with regret. "When we discussed it, Rose, I...I didn't react properly. I reacted like I thought I should. I let my Time Lord training dictate how I should respond, and you know...that's been unshakeable for hundreds and hundreds of years. That doesn't just fall away, it's more than ingrained...."

She was nodding.

"And I'm a fucking fool," he finished. "A bloody idiot. Do you know how much I wanted to tell you yes? Sabotage everything, even? Not even try to get back to the TARDIS? I was frightened. I'd be delighted to _share a mortgage with you._ " He said the last bit in a silly way, his nose pointed in the air. "I know that in retrospect. But I've been a coward, always, in hiding from my feelings for you. But was there ever a doubt?"

She was gazing at him, stunned.

"No," he answered himself. "There was never any doubt I loved you. I was just doing what I've always done—running away."

Rose's gaze fell to his mouth again. "Don't do that, then. Don't run."

He shook his head briefly, once again the picture of seriousness, and dipped toward her mouth. This time he was unstoppable. She met him just as eagerly, and when the tip of her tongue met his he shivered, giving himself over to his arousal. He knew it was fairly evident how aroused he was—she was pressed too close not to notice. There—all the cards on the table. 

Time was a gorgeous thing. Time given back to him.

What had he done for the Moorsies that could possibly equal this moment? It wasn't a fair trade. But no matter. 

They were both breathing hard now. He turned with her, pushing her back against the console. Wordlessly he pushed her away gently, made her lean back against the controls as he ran his hand over her chest, between her breasts, over her stomach. Even though they were fully clothed, the moment was almost too much, and they both felt it. He lifted one of her legs around his waist, ground his erection between her legs desperately, and her eyes closed as the pang of desire shot through them both, making them breathless.

"Rose, I...I need...."

She opened her eyes and clutched at the space suit he was still wearing, pulling herself back up to his mouth. "I need?" she echoed, but it was a question. A passionate, unbelievably sexy question. 

He swallowed hard. "I haven't...done this...in years." He smiled at just how large an understatement that was. 

Rose nipped softly at the underside of his chin. "And?"

He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of her lips on his neck. "And I want you," he panted. "To ah...to say the least."

Rose's hands hand slipped down as though she was seeking the button of his trousers, but she fumbled when she felt nothing but smooth fabric. She grabbed the front of his suit instead and paused, just staring.

"What?" He covered her hands with his. "If you aren't sure, I won't—"

She looked at him sharply. "No, don't you dare stop this." She grinned almost ferally. "I've thought about this way too long."

It was his turn to be shocked. "You have?"

She nodded. "You really must be blind. It's just...." She regarded his suit again. "I've no idea how to remove this."

He laughed as though that was the funniest thing he'd ever heard—and, actually, it was. He actually had to back away from her for a moment to get his bearings. When he got himself under control he saw that she had her hand over her mouth, her eyes shining with mirth.

With a playful growl he swept her off the console without warning, cradling her in his arms. "First," he said, looking down into her face, "'we'll go somewhere more comfortable. Then maybe we can decide how to get this thing off. I believe there's a zipper...somewhere." He couldn't stop grinning like a fool, but she continued to return it. All was as it should be, for this beautiful span of time. 24 hours. 

24 perfect hours.

***

The first door the Doctor came to was, conveniently, his bedroom. He backed against the door and it opened easily. The TARDIS approved, evidently.

He swung around with Rose in his arms, and froze.

Rose's smile evaporated. "Wha's wrong?"

The Doctor gazed across his room, remembering all the lonely nights spent here, the desperation since he'd lost her. It was like he could smell that desperation, though it had yet to take place here. He shook his head. He had to push it away—he couldn't waste time on his melancholy. Plenty of time for that shit later.

He didn't answer Rose. Instead, he carried her over to the bed and lay her gently across the width of it, resting himself between her legs. They kissed for a long moment, each enjoying the feel of the other, each swept up in the culmination of it all—their friendship, their trust in each other, all the adrenaline of all of the hours they had spent together about to be relieved. 

The Doctor was surprised by his need. He'd known he wanted Rose, but he'd never had the opportunity to give himself over to it fully. Now that he was, image after image flashed through his mind—outfits Rose had worn, flashes of her stomach revealing itself as she reached over her head for something, fabric stretching across her backside when she bent. He'd noticed all of it and filed it away, and now it all flooded back to him, making his erection throb painfully. He ran his hands down Rose's arms, grabbed her wrists, and gently pinned them above her head. He paused for a moment in kissing her, trying to collect himself. He started counting Gallifreyan runes.

"Doctor?" Rose asked tentatively. 

He shook his head, eyes still closed in concentration, and softly kissed her face, all around her mouth, even the tip of her nose. The playfulness helped him regain control, and finally he stood back. He made a face as he tried to reach behind himself for the tab of his zipper. "I think it's...around here somewhere."

She was grinning, point of her tongue stuck between her teeth. "You look like a monkey."

"Oh, do I? Maybe you'd like to help me, then?" He turned around and backed up to her, aware of how silly he looked, but enjoying it.

Rose began working at the zipper, then burst out laughing hysterically again.

"What?"

"You like bananas," she gasped, and they both dissolved.

They laughed even harder at Rose's reaction when she peeled his space suit off. "Oh no!"

He still had his regular suit on underneath. 

"All the buttons, Doctor! You'll have regenerated before I get this off!"

He laughed until he was left groaning, trying to regain his composure. "I think I'll help you, then, shall I?" He shrugged his jacket off and began unbuttoning his oxford. 

Rose lay back on the bed again just watching him, her gaze heated. 

The Doctor sobered as he stared at her, undressing himself silently. He looked meaningfully down the length of her, and what he was thinking didn't need to be said. Rose began undressing herself as well, casting her pink jacket aside and pulling her pink shirt over her head, leaving her hair messy, but not messy enough. The Doctor intended on wrecking her thoroughly.

He made quick work of the rest of his clothes, only hesitating for a moment when all that remained were his boxers. Not that they were hiding much, hard as he was. He felt a moment of almost paralyzing shyness, and waited for Rose to get down to her purple panties, which were amazingly tiny and delicate-looking. Once she had, he dropped forward onto his knees and stopped her from going any further, pushing her hands away. Instead, she began to take off her bra as he knelt between her legs. 

She tossed the bra away, leaving the Doctor to stare at her perfect breasts as he slid his fingertips under the band of her thong. He leaned forward and kissed one of her hard nipples, licking it gently, taking her breath away. She wiggled so that he could ease her underwear off, rocking back on his heels as he did so that he could take in the full view.

He tossed the panties aside and slid one hand slowly up her thigh, his mouth hanging open slightly in his concentration, not to mention his fascination with her. He wanted to absorb ever millimeter of her in his memory. He hesitated briefly before sliding his hand further up her leg, and met her eyes as he pressed his thumb gently against her clit and rubbed with just enough pressure to make her helpless.

Rose gasped and moaned softly.

The Doctor rotated his wrist so that he could slide his index and middle fingers between her folds even as he continued to stroke her softly. After a moment he pressed his fingers into her, curving them expertly so he was hitting just the right spot.

"That's, uh...." Rose was leaning back now with her hands braced on the bed, her blonde hair cascading messily down her back. She licked her lips and tried to continue her thought, already looking rather lightheaded. "...Not fair. You're still partly dressed." She smiled wickedly.

Again, wordlessly, the Doctor withdrew his hand and straightened enough on his knees so that he could pull his boxers off. Rose watched his every movement intently, as though she was also memorizing this. 

"Stand up so I can see you," she said breathlessly. 

He did just that, rising obediently so that he could give her what she was asking for and move onto the bed while he was at it. 

Her eyes swept over him and she flushed, not with embarrassment, but with evident anticipation. "You're beautiful." 

He grinned. "That's my line."

She smiled back, even as he swept her legs up onto the bed and positioned her so that he could get on top. 

He stopped to run his hands down the full length of her, pausing to caress her nipples, trace her hips. He bent, unable to resist, and slid his tongue between her thighs. 

She moaned immediately as he delicately licked and sucked in all the right places. She was unbelievably wet. Again she softly chuckled. "All those times you were lickin' things I sorta wondered what your tongue might feel like between my legs," she admitted, sending a jolt of heat coursing through him.

"Uh uh," he groaned, reaching up to cover her mouth with one hand. "No dirty talk. This will be over in point three seconds, Rose. And I mean to last at least ten." He winked at her, then startled her by yanking her legs up, hooking them over his elbows as he lined himself up with her entrance. He lowered one arm momentarily to slip the head of his cock over her swollen clit, rubbing it back and forth there a couple of times just to tease. He hesitated and their eyes locked again, the full reality of the moment sinking in for both of them. It was impossibly surreal.

And impossibly hot.

The Doctor nudged his erection against the lips of her vagina. "You want this?" He murmured. It was almost not even a question, though he really was asking permission. 

Whatever she heard in his tone, the question had quite an effect on Rose, as he immediately felt her dampen further. "Yeah," she whispered. 

He slid himself in to the hilt, not fast, but not very slowly, either. 

They both moaned, and the Doctor adjusted his position, pulling her leg up on his arm properly again. Then he pulled back out almost all the way and used the leverage of her weight to thrust himself into her again, pulling her tightly against him.

"Oh God," Rose moaned. "Mmm, Doctor...." She arched beneath him.

"Shhh," he murmured, barely restraining himself. He slid back and then into her again easily, amazed at the delicious heat of her, at the smell of her skin, the perspiration glistening between her breasts. He let one of her legs down gently in order to run his hand over her again as he had when she was clothed in the console room, stroking her slowly. He rested his hand on her belly and thrust into her again, this time a little harder. He could feel his movement right through her, and he bit his lip.

Rose watched his mouth, watched him biting his lip, and almost unconsciously reached down to her nipples. She began to play with them, obviously trying to drive him mad.

The Doctor was so far gone it was almost too much to handle, but he watched as though in a trance. He lowered himself to kiss her lips softly, tasting the salt of the perspiration above her lip, and without warning he slammed into her with everything he had.

Rose cried out against his mouth, spasming around his cock, and he lowered his head, closing his eyes and panting desperately. "Rose...."

She answered with a continuation of her moan, apparently not done with the climax. 

He forced his lips against hers hard and gave in, pumping frantically into her, pushing her legs back a bit to get a deeper angle. She raked her nails down his back, something no one had ever done to him before. He'd never had sex like this, not ever—Gallifreyan women were very different, and his experience even there was sorely limited. He'd often imagined Rose like this, but feeling her actual passion was worlds better—nothing he would ever have been able to conjure on his own. 

He released her legs and smoothed his hands into her hair again, still moving into her, propped up on his elbows. "Yes, that's it," he breathed against her lips. "Come again, Rose, come on...."

She hitched in a breath, eyes barely open but fixed hungrily on his, and she trembled as she whimpered loudly and flooded him. 

"I'm going to—oh, God—" his orgasm swept through him, almost blinding him with its force. Mouth open, he gasped and held himself still against her as his cock spasmed for what seemed like ages. He held onto the feeling, wanting it to last forever.

"Oh God," he whispered again when it was over, withdrawing from her reluctantly and landing on his shoulder beside her, almost too weak for the moment to roll onto his back.

"Yeah," she agreed, letting her left hand come up idly to stroke his sweaty hair.

Wow. He was sweating. Time Lords didn't sweat. Or maybe they did, after a particularly phenomenal shag. The Doctor worked to steady his breathing, coming back to the real world. After a minute he pulled her against him, tucking her against his chest. He kissed the top of her head as she traced her fingers down his chest. Neither had anything to say for a long time; they simply lay there basking in the glow of everything they'd finally said, everything they'd finally done.

Eventually he felt Rose's breathing even out, and realized she had fallen asleep. He stroked her hair and let her rest. It had been a long day for her.

_Their time together isn't over yet. To be continued...._


	5. A Day Outside of Time II (Wicked Game)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is told both from both of their perspectives, not just the Doctor's. Again, explicit sex. Definitely language. NSFW. ;)

_"The world was on fire and no one could save me but you._  
_It's strange what desire will make foolish people do._  
_I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you._  
_And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you._  


_No, I don't want to fall in love (This world is only gonna break your heart)...."_

—Wicked Game, Chris Isaak

***

They were curled together in a blissful sleep.

The Doctor had been a little surprised when he'd felt himself actually drifting off, and he warred with himself for a moment—so little time, and he would waste it sleeping?—but exhaustion and utter contentment won the argument. Rose was the balm to every place he had been aching, and he let the calm tide of her breath sweep him under.

Rose woke first, and for a moment she was confused as to what was happening. She was in the Doctor's room, yes—nothing new, really, she'd slept here before—but something was different. What? ... _Oh._ It had really happened. She was naked in his arms, tightly intertwined with him beneath the soft covers.

She turned over gently in his arms, not wanting to wake him, and studied his sleeping face. She'd only seen him sleep deeply like this once before, not including directly after he'd regenerated. They'd been running around some planet or other with Jack, and the Cybermen had shown up. Few things scared Rose more than the Cybermen, and apparently the same was true of the Doctor. He'd put the Cybermen in their place, as usual, but he was clearly mentally exhausted afterward. They had retired to his room and she had gone to use the loo. When she came back she was surprised to find him already sound asleep. She recalled how she'd watched him sleeping then, thinking how vulnerable he looked, how innocent. She was so in love with him in that moment that her chest had ached. She'd slipped into her dressing gown, knowing he was too out to wake up and see it, and she had slid onto the bed and lain facing him, feeling his breath on her. She'd studied his face until her eyes grew heavy and she fell asleep. By the time she woke up he was awake already, just lying there on his back and staring at the ceiling. Rose had blushed, realizing her gown had ridden up a bit while she slept and her panties were on display. She self-consciously pulled the gown down, but he didn't seem to notice—didn't even look. They had chatted for a while, then got up to go to the kitchen for a cuppa.

Just one more reason she had never thought they'd be here, in these circumstances. She'd offered him the opportunity far more than once before. And if he'd wanted it, why had he never taken her up on it before now? She'd had theories, most notable of which was the theory that he didn't in fact want her that way at all...that he was in fact as asexual as his actions implied. But after a time there were things that didn't fit with that scenario. Reinette, for instance. Ugh...how she'd hated Reinette. She had been able to forgive him, though, due to her second theory—he was afraid to let someone in who he was already close to. She had a feeling that the reality of a relationship with her, when she was right here beside him every day, would be way more of a reality than he could deal with. It was just far too complicated. And there was the inevitable, looming fact of her departure. Some day it would happen, whether by accident or by the natural death of old age.

He'd moped around for a while after Reinette, refusing to speak of her. Rose, in her hurt, was tempted to shut him out...but instead she chose to do the opposite; she watched him very hard. It didn't take her long to notice that in quiet moments when he thought she wasn't paying attention, he would stare at her. His mood for a long while was one of of sad resignation, and Rose had felt tempted to believe that what had happened with Reinette had less to do with Reinette and more to do with her. In fact, she sensed that strongly. Maybe, like Rose, he was mourning for what he wanted most but knew he couldn't have. Or maybe he wasn't even aware that he wanted it...that was also a distinct possibility.

Here they were now, though. After a brush with death much like any other. As much as Rose wanted to stay relaxed and enjoy this for all it was worth, she felt a cold fear sneak into the centre of her chest and burn there icily. There was only one theory she could come up with now—that secretly the Doctor believed what the beast said about her dying.

It wasn't fair—was this what had to happen to her, what she had to be in danger of, before he would give her the affection she'd so desperately wanted all this time?

Suddenly she couldn't breathe. She began to slowly but resolutely extract herself from his arms, being as careful as she could not to wake him. 

Once she was free he shifted onto his stomach, hugging one of the pillows under his head, still dead asleep. She scooted down to the foot of the bed and went to get up—

"Where are you going?"

Damn. There really was no getting by him.

"The loo, Doctor. I really need a shower." She looked back at him, at his face half-smothered in the pillow. His free eye was fixed on her.

"If that involves getting out of bed then I don't like this plan," he said out of the corner of his mouth, his words slightly muffled.

Rose smiled, but stood and headed off to the loo and closed the door behind her.

The Doctor frowned and sat up against the headboard, very awake suddenly. He didn't like the tightness of that smile she'd just given him. Did she regret what they'd done? Had he done something wrong?

He listened as the shower started up, absolute panic crawling through him. He had an almost unbearable urge to run in there and ask her what was wrong. The little time they had left together was too precious to waste on anything but love.

He forced himself to keep still. He couldn't frighten her, couldn't rush any of this. Even though he could technically explain everything to her without any danger of disrupting a timeline, he couldn't imagine how she would feel about it all. And she _would_ want questions answered...about the future, about why he would want to come back. And what about when it came time for him to leave? The parting would be unbearable if she understood what it meant. Best that she had no idea their time was limited. He wanted to spare her of the pain he couldn't spare himself from.

He was used to that. Used to shouldering the pain. He could somewhat bear it if he only knew that she'd been happy during their time together.

He couldn't bear it if she continued on with the look she'd given him before going to the shower.

Hesitantly, he slid off the bed and crossed the room. He knocked gently on the door.

"Yeah Doctor?"

He opened the door the slightest bit. "Can I come in?"

She hesitated only for a moment before answering. "Yeah, come on in."

He stepped inside the heated cloud she'd created, and for a moment had to close his eyes as the scent of her soaps washed over him. The TARDIS had moved all of her things in here. He hadn't smelled this particular combination of scents in so long...likely never would again.

_Stop thinking like that. You have to hold it together or you'll blow the whole thing._

He crossed the room and opened the glass door of the shower, stepping in gingerly behind her. She liked the water as hot she could stand it, so she was obscured by the humidity. 

He got as close as he could without touching her, hovering behind her. Slowly, he slid one hand down her wet arm. 

She turned to look at him. Yes, her eyes were unmistakably sad. 

He stroked her cheek, rubbed his thumb lovingly across her chin. "What's the matter, sweetheart?"

She looked into his face, feeling a miserable pleasure sweep through her when he called her that. If there was one thing she'd learned during her travels with him, it was that no one could hold a closed expression quite like the Doctor. If he didn't want you in, you weren't. Simple as that. Now she could see that the opposite was also true—once you were in, you couldn't even imagine being anywhere else. Couldn't possibly want it. 

Rose bit her lip and raised her shower puff to his chest. She squeezed it and watched the soap slide down his skin. "I was just wonderin'," she said softly.

"Wondering what?" He stayed still under her ministrations. She set the puff aside and ran her hands through the soapy foam it had left behind, rubbed it up over his chest and shoulders. It should have felt sexy as hell to both of them—and, indeed, it did feel pretty good—but it seemed purely functional with this thick tension surrounding them. 

"Why now?" Rose looked into his eyes, wanting to see his expression when he answered. To her dismay she saw a shadow of despair flicker behind his eyes. He couldn't even hide it. He seemed to know that, too, because he closed his eyes and let his chin drop to his chest in a posture of defeat.

Finally, he looked back up at her. "It was the pit, Rose...I told you. I thought I'd never come back."

It was a poor lie and they both knew it. She just shook her head silently, eyes never leaving his. She wasn't buying it, and with her gaze she dared him to keep on lying.

He sighed, looked away for a moment, and took up her bath puff. He took some of her shower gel, squeezed more into the netting, and set the bottle aside. He brought the puff to Rose's chest and began lathering her softly with it, giving himself time to think, his jaw set. She could see the tension in it. "All right," he finally admitted reluctantly, almost whispering. "That isn't entirely it. I've been through a lot recently. I don't know quite how to explain it to you. I've just come to see there isn't time to waste. I don't want to waste any more time I could spend loving you." He searched her expression, his face an open plea that she understand and not ask any more.

It was too late—she was too frightened. Her hand clamped over his, stilling the puff. "Is it what the beast said?" she demanded. "Or Satan, or whatever that _thing_ was...am I going to die soon?"

His expression changed quickly to one of absolute horror. He paled, his mouth hanging slightly ajar. Even the usual sparkle of his eyes seemed to freeze. His voice was high with alarm as he asked, "Oh God, is _that_ what you've been thinking?" 

A tear fell down Rose's cheek. She tried to stop it, but it was out before she could. "You never wanted this before. Is this what it takes, me dyin', for you to smarten up and realize that you love me? For you to show me?" She was choking with emotion. She could hardly even get the words out. 

He couldn't answer, nor could he wipe that horrified look off his face. He swept her to him so abruptly that she almost slipped, and he pressed himself to her tightly, feeling every inch of her wet skin sliding against him. In other circumstances it would have made him hard instantly, but he was too sick with himself currently to even think of that. "I didn't think it needed to be said," he breathed. "And no. No." He pulled back to look at her, to make it very clear. "You are not going to die. It just isn't going to happen, Rose. I _promise._ "

Her features softened. She believed him. Her body, however, remained tense. "I still want to know why now. Why really?"

"Oh, shit!" He cried in frustration, making Rose jump in alarm. He let go of her and turned around, one hand to the glass wall of the shower, bracing. He seemed to be trying to decide whether to exit.

Rose had unconsciously lifted a hand to her mouth. She suddenly wanted to take it back, not to press him. She'd been upset, but hadn't expected to upset _him_ this way. He was trembling. 

"I'm sorry, Doctor. Forget about it, okay?"

"You're going to make me say it, aren't you?" He asked, shaking his head, not turning around.

Rose felt her blood run cold, even under the hot spray. "Say what?"

The Doctor whirled around, his face grim, a broken expression in his eyes that Rose couldn't bear to see, a look as if the whole world had ended. He grabbed her to him and kissed her fiercely. "Later," he whispered hard against her lips. She could feel his teeth. "I will tell you later, Rose, for now just accept that it isn't important and for fuck's sake _love me._ "

She circled her arms around his neck, still frightened but more than willing to obey. She didn't need to know. She didn't even want to know, not really, not anymore. She kissed him and kissed him until the tension finally began leaving his lips and they softened for her again. 

The Doctor reached for a bottle of shampoo and squirted some into his palm, kissing the bridge of Rose's nose gently, coming back into the moment. He began lathering her hair, deciding the lovemaking could wait. As much as he wanted it, he wanted this just as much—to cherish her. She was so much more than just a sexual object to him, and he wanted to make that clear. 

She closed her eyes in pleasure as he gently stroked his fingers through her hair until all the soap was gone. She returned the favor, washing his hair, taking her time with it. 

"I love your hair," she murmured as she played with it, spiking it playfully with the shampoo. A tender smile lit his face and she felt her stomach drop. Was there any sight more gorgeous than his face when he was happy? 

She pulled him to her and kissed him, still stroking his hair, letting the soap run from it as he had done with her. 

When they were through washing each other he found a large, fluffy towel to pat her down with before attending to himself. He'd even managed to keep the shower almost platonic—he was only half-hard.

Rose noticed. Her eyes flicked from his cock to his face and back again, and she went down on her knees to fix the situation. When she looked up at him again she thought to herself with amusement that he looked, even in this moment, as charmingly boyish as always. She wanted to bring out the desperation she knew lurked behind that expression—she'd seen it the night before. She wanted him to want her painfully.

She took his cock in her hand and gave it a couple long strokes just for fun—he'd hardened completely the moment she'd sunk to her knees, obviously grasping right away what her intention was. She swept her thumb through his precum before sliding him into her mouth so that she could taste it.

It was amazing. He didn't taste like the other men she'd been with. Delicately salty, yes, but also like...like...summer. There was no other way to describe it. Summer, and light. There seemed to be no part of him which didn't communicate exactly what he was. He tasted like time itself, tasted like forever. Rose felt a pleasant tingling stir behind her navel, knowing the power she held over him in this moment. She glanced up at his face to confirm it, and her arousal deepened.

His hair had mostly dried, but the way it fell around his face was wilder than even his usual bedhead. His expression was dark and intent, focused. As if she could read his mind—and in this moment she could have sworn that she could—she knew what he was thinking, could feel how violently he wanted to fuck her. She also knew, however, that he was going to give in to this first. 

That was all she needed to know. Focusing on her task once again, Rose circled her index finger and thumb around the base of his cock and stroked him even as she backed off with her lips, swirled her tongue around the swollen head, tasted him again, and then took him all the way into her mouth, trying her best to adapt quickly to his size. He was bigger than she was used to—no wonder he had such an ego. She wondered, amused, if this had anything to do with it. If so...rightly earned.

The Doctor moaned helplessly, giving himself over to her, holding onto the expression he'd just seen on her face—amused and knowing and so sure of herself. He made a mental note to repay her back in kind for that. But no doubt she had enough reason to be confident, he thought, echoing her own ruminations without even knowing it. He let out a shuddering breath and ran his left hand through her hair, trying to resist the urge to thrust into her mouth. 

She set up a slow, teasing rhythm, licking and humming and swallowing him again and again, until all he could do was gasp and pant. By the time she ran her nails softly over his testicles he was already most of the way there, and when she did that he felt everything tighten. 

He wasn't sure if she wanted to be there for the finish, and he was quickly running out of time to warn her. He wasn't even sure he could speak, so he tugged gently at her hair as if to ease her away. In response she hummed again and clasped his ass with both hands, swallowing him deeper.

Fuck. That was _it._

He cried out, then had to grit his teeth against the force of his orgasm as it continued to build past where he had anticipated. He clasped her hair perhaps a little harder than he meant to. If it hurt she didn't let on—she was still sucking him, but very softly, letting him ride out the wave. 

Finally, she swallowed and sat back on her heels, grinning up at him a bit too smugly. 

He let out a breath and moved to sit with his back against the shower, not able to stand any longer. He sat wordlessly for a long minute, collecting himself while Rose just smiled.

"Wow," he finally said, head lolling back against the glass door. He looked as though he'd just had a revelation.

Rose laughed, and his gaze flicked to her. 

"Right then. So," he grinned, touching the tip of his tongue to the back of his upper teeth, "how long've you wanted to do that, then?"

Her mouth dropped open at the pomposity of his question, but she was laughing as she reached over and slapped his leg. "You are _unbelievably_ full of yourself!" 

He was still grinning. "But I'm not wrong though, am I?"

He knew he wasn't. Her expression became completely serious and she leaned forward on her hands to kiss him. He returned the kiss more than eagerly; it was a kiss that promised a lot more to follow. He grabbed her hand and pressed it against his erection—he was already hard again, and he wanted her to know what she did to him. She had to pull back from him to breathe, as desire had sucked the air from her lungs.

He tilted his chin down, fixing her with that dark stare again. "Last night was entirely too fast," he said, voice rumbling in a way that made her insides clench. "This time, I'm going to make you scream."

He stood, clasping her hand, and led her back through the bedroom. He stopped her in front of the bed to kiss her deeply, then without warning gently shoved her back onto the mattress. She fell, looking up at him with her hair in her face, and he remembered how much he'd wanted to muss it up the night before. Granted it _was_ a mess from the way he'd been pulling it a minute ago, but he still thought it looked entirely too tame.

"You know," Rose purred as he began to crawl over her, "I don't mind it a little rough."

The Doctor flashed a grin at her and then, quick as lightning, the smile was gone and he had a handful of her hair in his fist. He pulled her head back until it was resting on the bed. "I don't care how you like it," he whispered fiercely, directly against her lips. "I want you to forget you've ever done it before. No one's ever fucked you like I'm going to, Rose Tyler." 

She gasped and her insides clenched again. She thought she might come right that second. "Yes, Doctor," she agreed, her expression clearly signaling permission for whatever he had in mind. Even deferring to him—which she'd secretly imagined many times, without ever suspecting he had this in him—was enough to make her wet. Not that she hadn't been already some time ago.

The Doctor just looked into her face for a long moment, silently having an internal struggle but fighting not to show it. He didn't want his passion to overcome him to the point where he was no longer tender, but there was a wild voracity in him at the moment that he wasn't sure how to stop. He sort of wanted to stop thinking entirely and just lose himself the way he would have if he hadn't known any better. He decided to go with that.

He bent and sucked hard on Rose's neck, leaving a red mark on her pale throat. She hummed a pleased hum way back in her throat. He remembered what that had felt like when his cock was in her mouth, and he felt his erection twitch. There was no way he was going to let go like that again, though. Not until he was good and ready. Not until he'd worn her out. Where to start....

He sat back on his heels, drinking her in for a moment. She was long and lovely, her skin pale, her perky breasts heaving softly with her breath. _Aaah, okay...that's a good place to start._ He ran the tips of his fingers between her legs, just grazing her clit, and slid his hands up to cup her breasts and gently tease her nipples. He kissed and licked his way up her stomach and finally lay between her legs, settling where he could easily have his way, taking his time in licking and sucking her nipples, caressing her sides gently with light pressure, reaching up and running one hand down the side of her neck. Rose arched slightly when he gently bit one nipple, barely applying pressure. 

She wasn't sure what it was, but his hands made her tingle in a way she quickly became convinced went beyond normal arousal. It was almost as if he was emitting something. She wondered if she had been too caught up in the moment the night before to notice this, or if it was just that he was taking his time now. And doing a nice job of it....

He slid up her to kiss her so lightly and sensually she thought she'd go mad. Over and over he captured her lips softly with his, varying the angle, sucking first her bottom lip and then the top. Rose arched against him again, letting out a soft cry of aroused frustration. In truth, she wasn't in any hurry—she just couldn't bear how nice it felt. "I love you," she whispered between kisses. 

"I love you," he said, so plainly and unabashedly that she felt her heart swell in her throat. He gently sucked her lower lip again. She watched his face intently, the way his coal-black eyelashes fluttered softly as he kissed her. 

She slid her hands into his hair, ruffling it gently, reminding herself over and over again that this was real. 

Those lashes fluttered up as he stared into her eyes and slid his hand between her legs, rubbing with the flat of his hand. 

Rose bit her lip and closed her eyes, rocking herself against his hand, welcoming the pressure, wanting more. The Doctor watched her bite her lip, his face inches from hers, and even he gasped softly as he slid his middle finger into her and swirled it in a delicious circle.

Rose trembled uncontrollably. "Doctor...." her hands scrunched his hair, not hard, but urgently. She panted against his lips and focused enough to look at him again.

There was so much love in her eyes that for a moment he forgot what he was doing. 

" _My_ Doctor," she breathed.

He swallowed, so touched that he was afraid he might cry. Instead, he redoubled his efforts, sliding his index finger into her as well. He went fast and hard as though in answer, working to send her to a place she'd only previously dreamt of. He enjoyed the arousal coiling in his stomach as he did it, the overwhelming need that was building in him...and which kept on building with seemingly no end.

"Oh...oh!" Rose let out a scream he hadn't yet heard, and he curved his fingers in her at just the right moment, absorbing the way her face contorted as she came, the way her eyes crinkled at the corners and her mouth opened. 

He knew he was really seeing her—open, completely undone, a way no one else had ever or would ever see her again. _I could die happy,_ he thought, not wanting the thought but having it anyway. He felt peaceful.

He withdrew his fingers as she came back down again, a smile spreading across her face. "Ohm'godwow," she said. 

The corner of his mouth quirked in a smile. "Did you enjoy that?"

"Were you here for it?" She grinned wickedly.

"Yeah." He moved over her as he spoke, again wanting to be on top. Not that he would mind giving her a chance there, but he needed to be in control right now. "Do you want me to...?"

Rose nodded, not trusting her voice.

The Doctor grasped his cock (something he had a feeling he'd better get used to in the future, as he was certainly not ever going to forget any of this, not if he regenerated a thousand more times), and lined himself up with her. He bent to kiss under each of her eyes, feeling simultaneously tender and out of control with desire. He hesitated, then thrust into her and bit back a moan. When he regained the ability to speak, he whispered, "You're mine, yeah?"

"Always," she answered without hesitation. Then added, "Oh god, I can't stand this...fuck me hard, Doctor, so hard, please...."

He slammed into her in response, again and again, and she met his every thrust with one of her own, enhancing the impact. They were both on fire listening to the sound of their connection, so loud and violent. They maintained eye contact, and somehow that felt like the most intimate thing they were doing. Neither could get enough of it.

"Yes, yes, yes," Rose began, a helpless litany. Every time he sank into her again she said it. "Yes...."

He refused to give in. He just looked at her and shook his head to communicate that, knowing his simple denial would do more than words could.

She screamed as she came in a rush, came so hard she thought she'd pass out, but continued to meet his thrusts in a smooth, wet rhythm. 

The Doctor pursed his lips, looking down at where they were joined, and had the incredibly perverted thought that he sort of wished he was getting this on camera. She was so...so....

"Oh, Rose, you are _soaking...wet,_ " he gasped, and it was suddenly too much. With a final thrust he lost control and came inside her, barely keeping just enough clarity to lean forward and kiss her deeply before he was through.

They clutched each other, slick and panting. 

After a long moment, Rose said with certainty, "No one's ever had sex like that."

The Doctor laughed. "I don't...think that's what I meant by 'the stuff of legend,' but I won't argue that."

Rose laughed and stroked the back of his head lovingly. 

He nuzzled his face against her collar bone, not ready to withdraw from her yet.

Their earlier conversation was still unfinished. They held and stroked each other, enjoying this solace. Enjoying it in direct defiance of the conversation still to come. An element of anger sizzled quietly under the surface of their bond, which had just become as unbreakable as any that could ever be formed.

They both knew there were rules, laws they had to answer to, promises that they had broken. The Doctor had promised himself he'd never do this with a companion, that to do so would be wrong, that he had a duty not to exploit the absolute trust that was put in him. His companions naturally looked up to and relied on him, and so sometimes ended up feeling strongly for him...but...but this was different, because Rose felt like an equal. (Yes, an equal, despite the irony of the fact that he found it very arousing to dominate her, which made everything five times as wrong. He didn't even want to start diving into _that_ psychology right now.)

Rose had promised herself that she wouldn't ever allow herself to love him this deeply, to the point of no return, as if she could control that. She knew all along she was only apt to get hurt. But there was nothing for it. She'd been a goner long before now, but she'd just made it worse, somehow.

They just fit, like a perfect equation. Even the universes couldn't argue with that sort of math.

_No, it's still not over yet. Even now the Doctor looks at his nightstand and sees that it's only 9am; he has thirteen hours left with his Rose. To be continued...._


	6. A Day Outside of Time III (The Most Amazing Thing)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final part of the "Day Outside of Time." The Doctor enjoys the last of his time with Rose, while trying to avoid the truth. Explicit sex (therefore NSFW) lots of romance. Sorry this took me so long to complete! The muses refused to visit, and I rewrote this a couple of times.

_Kazran: Think about it, Doctor. One last day with your beloved. Which day would you choose?_ \--A Christmas Carol

_I used to feel so free, the way we used to be  
Time got away from me  
I used to feel so free, the way we used to be  
Time got away from me_

_If you cry out, I'll be there now  
I'll be there now  
If you cry out, I'll be there now _

\--Medusa, GEMS

* * *

_"I still want to know why now. Why really?"_

Rose was dozing lightly with her head on the Doctor's chest. He stroked her hair softly with one hand, inhaling its sweet smell with every breath. He was gazing at some unfixed point in the air, thinking. 

He could think up some very clever lie, or he could tell her the truth. After all they'd just done, didn't he owe her the truth? He'd told her just about every truth he had; that he wanted her, that he loved her. Why lie now? Granted, he was a very good liar, and that skill had been born out of necessity.

Rose stirred and stretched a bit and turned her head to gaze up at him with a big Cheshire cat grin breaking across her face. The Doctor literally felt his hearts freeze in his chest at the sight; he had missed that smile. Rassilon, how he had. He tried, but couldn't return it; he felt too bitter over the idea that he was going to need to ruin it with the truth.

Couldn't he have one unspoiled day of happiness? Not even 24 hours could pass leaving him unscathed.

Rose gazed into his face, her smile slowly becoming a frown. "Wha's wrong?" She pulled herself up so that she was propped on her elbows, hovering over his face.

The Doctor raised his hand and ran his fingers lightly over the side of her face, from the part in her hair all the way to her chin. 

She just gazed at him questioningly. 

He pressed her lower lip softly with his thumb, and she ducked her head a little to kiss the digit. Softly, he brought his hand around to the back of her neck and urged her closer, into a tender kiss.

She melted into him. He ran slightly cooler than she did, which felt a little strange in this context, but it was growing on her quickly. The Doctor lying here in the bed with her after what they'd just done...it was so intimate, so amazingly intimate, a side of him she'd long ago stopped guessing might exist. She still felt like she was dreaming. Somewhere low in her chest she had a terrible feeling that what they were doing right now was still an impossibility.

Which made her mind hearken back to her earlier question. She opened her eyes just enough to look at him even as he kissed her, and knew immediately from his furrowed brow that he'd been thinking of the same thing. Didn't need to be telepathic to know that; she could read her Doctor's moods like he was an open book. At least, she liked to think she could by now. He could be so guarded, though....

She closed her eyes again and continued to kiss him for a long moment (though honestly, all time spent in the Doctor's company felt too short), trying to make him forget that furrow. Eventually she pulled back gently and trailed her hand lightly over his chest and abdomen. She ventured almost too low, just enjoying the feel of him right here and now, in their impossible moment. She wouldn't ask--she wouldn't. She remembered how he'd trembled in the shower.

The Doctor's eyes never left her face as she touched him. She could almost see his thoughts flickering far back in them, some internal argument. He swallowed, opened his mouth, hesitated--not with reluctance, it seemed, but with the import of what he was about to say. "I have all of time, Rose, but I'll tell you something." He slid his hand over the one on his belly, stopping it, and clasped it gently. He stroked her palm with his thumb. "It's too short, when I'm with you."

They were so in sync it was mad. She'd always known that if they could just let down this wall between them, they would be. He'd been traveling so long without her, but it was as if things were always meant to be this way--the two of them here, in the TARDIS, together this way. She let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. She rested her forehead against his and closed her eyes.

The Doctor rolled over on her suddenly, intertwining his fingers with hers and asking permission with a glance. Rose squeezed his hands in hers softly, and without hesitation he pressed himself into her. He went slowly, so much slower than she would have anticipated. They breathed against each other's mouths, not making contact, just enjoying the closeness after all the time they'd spent resisting it.

He moved back, slid into her again just as slowly.

Rose moaned, overcome, hardly able to believe how good he felt. It was like the whole world might come flying apart.

The Doctor looked into her eyes with that animal voracity she was becoming so well-acquainted with. Rose did her best to commit this look to memory; it was unbelievably sexy--such a contrast to her normally jovial, funny, asexual, vanilla Doctor. He was so unoffensive ordinarily...but this...this was all sorts of offensive. 

He lowered his head to one breast and gently flicked the point of her nipple with his tongue. Rose hissed in a breath.

Out, then in again. Slowly.

He sucked the nipple into his mouth.

Rose trembled all over, wishing he would release her hands so that she could touch him. She squirmed.

The Doctor moved to her other breast, repeating the same maneuver. Every now and then he grazed the nipple with his teeth. He finally released her hands so he could slide one of his between them to tease her clit. This time when he slid into her he gave a bit of a harder thrust right at the end, rotating his hips slightly.

Wow. That was amazing. Rose dug her fingernails into his shoulders with a sharp gasp.

He watched her face, fascinated. 

She was so much slicker now. The Doctor thrust just a little faster, though not by much, enjoying the torture of the leisurely pace. He kissed the side of her neck and moved up and released a warm breath in her ear, moaning softly at the end of it, sending Rose over the edge and making her legs shake. When she finally came down from her orgasm she decided to return the favor; he'd given her the upper hand with this position, whether he knew it or not, because her lips were close to his ear as well. She tightened her legs around him and rocked her hips to meet him thrust for thrust.

"You have no idea how many times I've pleased myself right here in the TARDIS, imagining you in me." 

He let out a little gasp of surprise, one hand falling to the mattress above her head to brace himself as he lost control and let go inside her. Rose closed her eyes, pressing into him as he came, enjoying the sensation, loving that she could affect him this way. She couldn't remember ever being this turned on before, and that was saying a lot given all the time she'd spent completely frustrated while imagining just this.

They stayed in that position for just a moment, catching their breath, not even looking at each other until the Doctor pulled back and searched her face intensely, as though he was about to interrogate her. She knew what he was going to ask, and she fought back a bout of hysterical laughter.

"Have you really?"

Rose blushed, bit her lip, and nodded, her eyes glinting.

He let out an overwhelmed moan at the thought. "Okay, I need to...spend some time with that."

* * *

They somehow managed to pry themselves apart and leave the bedroom, clad only in their dressing gowns. They made their way to the kitchen, where Rose insisted that the Doctor sit while she fixed them each a cup. She took a box of biscuits from the freezer, where she always liked to keep them, and took out three for each. When the tea was finished she brought their cups over to the island and sat across from the Doctor. He regarded her like a smitten schoolboy as she slid his cup across to him, giving her his most flirtatious smile. He caught her hand as she went to draw it back and just sat studying it, almost as if he was making sure it was real.

"Good hand?" Rose asked, grinning.

"Excellent hand. Handiest hand there ever was." He raised it to his lips and kissed the backs of her fingers before reluctantly releasing her.

She set about dunking her biscuits in her tea. The Doctor grinned gleefully. He'd always teased her about that. Why, he'd ask, would she want to take perfectly good tea and ruin it with biscuit mush? _Freeze them,_ he'd said time and time again, _and then sop them in your steaming hot tea. What for? For what purpose? Rose Tyler, you are an alien._

She met his gaze expectantly, smiling. 

"You will always be a mystery wrapped in a conundrum wrapped in a...well," he tilted his head as he looked over her robe, "wrapped in nothing, preferably, but at the moment far too much. Far, far too much." He raised his cup and smiled salaciously at her before blowing delicately at the rising steam.

Her cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink, her smile widening. They'd slept together, but she couldn't get over it-- _He was really flirting with her! And he MEANT it!_ She took a bite of her biscuit, quickly placing one delicate hand in front of her mouth like an embarrassed teenager. She couldn't stop grinning.

The Doctor could have let a companionable silence spin out around them, but instead decided to immerse himself in this fantasy completely. To just believe in it. If he didn't have the guts to tell her the truth, he was going to run with this lie for all it was worth. He'd brought down entire governments, entire civilizations, with his lies; surely he could do some good with those same skills for the length of one day. "So. What do you want to do next?"

Rose tilted her head from side to side, thinking, still chewing. "Mmmm." She swallowed. "Well, past, future--only two options, really."

 _"Only?"_ he stressed, incredulous, his voice rising. "Well, Rose Tyler. I don't even know what to say to that." He pretended to be offended, turning his head and sipping haughtily at his tea.

"I'm finding the present rather appealing at the moment," she said softly, gazing at him meaningfully.

The Doctor swallowed half his tea in one gulp. "Tea...tea was a stupid idea, why'd I say tea again?" He put on his best mock-confused expression, rising quickly and making his way around the island to her. He cradled her head between his hands, running his thumbs over her cheeks and taking in her face for a long moment while she looked helplessly back at him, hardly able to breathe. Finally, and very slowly, he bent to her mouth and kissed her thoroughly. She circled her arms around his middle.

"While you've been dunking your biscuit like a nutter, I've been thinking," he said against her lips.

"Uh oh," Rose said seriously, looking alarmed.

The Doctor chuckled. "I was thinking, you rude girl, that it should be a holiday. Pick a holiday--pick any year."

Rose's eyes lit up, butterflies flitting around in her stomach. It was easy to forget at times--especially if the Doctor was kissing you, she now knew--that you had all of time and space at your fingertips, and that any moment that felt special could actually _be_ special. Not just for you, but for everyone. You could immerse yourself in a spirit of celebration any time, if that was what you wanted. And apparently the Doctor did. Because he loved her.

He really loved her.

She clutched the sleeve of his dressing gown, excited. "1850s--Victorian England. Christmas!"

His expression became one of distaste, his lip curling. "Oh, but Queen Victoria is a werewolf--have you forgotten? And she hates us. A lot. We've been banished, if you recall."

"Yeah, but this is before that," Rose said, shaking his arm. "Come on. Pleaaase?" She gave him puppy-dog eyes.

He still had that look on his face. "Oh...." he groaned, glancing at her in reluctant acquiescence. "All riiight then." His expression changed, and he favored her with a little smile. "Anything for my Rose." He already looked like a boy on Christmas morning. But then, he often did.

She sprang up on her feet and jumped in place a few times. "Yay!" She threw her arms around his neck and he clasped her tightly to him, smiling over her shoulder. 

The Doctor closed his eyes a moment and turned his head just enough to bury his nose in her golden hair. He stroked her back softly, wishing he could cheat, wishing he could stay here forever. Trade his life in for a human one--live and die with her. For her.

* * *

"I dunno if I can walk in this!" Rose protested, lifting her skirt in an effort to ease her burden. She was panting. 

"You chose the time and place!" The Doctor exclaimed, surveying their surroundings. 

"Easy for you to say," Rose grumbled. "You never even change, and no one seems to mind it."

The Doctor adjusted his jacket with some fondness. "They think me modern. Besides, I've a cane!" He twirled his lightweight walking stick, complete with a silver top, and Rose rolled her eyes. The Doctor launched directly into inquiry. "Who would question this suit? Are you complaining about my suit, Rose?"

She grinned, forgetting her discomfort. She stopped, letting her skirt down, and drew nearer to him. Eye contact was difficult at this stage; it caused both to immediately forget where they were. "I think your suit is rather nice. Though what's under it is nicer."

The Doctor cleared his throat nervously. "I um, though I hate to, I should remind you, Rose, of where we are...and that manners are of the utmost importance here and crime is rampant. We need to keep our wits--and our reputations--about us."

Rose's face scrunched up into a grouchy countenance once more. "There had better be something good for dinner, at least, if I can't snog you in the street."

"Plenty of time for that later, love," the Doctor said. For a moment he believed himself--and then the truth tried to creep in. He shoved it away violently. No. He refused to think about that, and instead bowed politely to the next well-dressed man who passed. "Pardon me, sir, but might you know where the lady's house is?"

The man gave them directions and tipped his hat before walking on.

"The lady?" Rose asked.

The Doctor shrugged. "I dunno, any lady. Seems we've been pointed in the direction of the most prominent one."

Rose grinned mischievously, excitement bubbling up through her chest. She always felt this way at the beginning of one of their adventures--it was an easy mood to fall in love during. Hence how she had, maybe. Well, all right--his bum may have contributed as well. "And what's your plan?"

"Weeeellll," the Doctor said, "it's a full moon. S'a plus Queen Victoria isn't a werewolf yet, I might add, though I bet she's having rather a dull night. Anyway, the largest houses hold a ball each month when the moon is full. Everyone'll know who's having one, and we've just been pointed to the best of all."

"Bad Doctor," Rose said, affecting a disappointed expression and a scolding tone.

He glanced sidelong at her and winked. "I think you like me bad."

She blushed.

* * *

They found the house all right, and though their dress was thoroughly scrutinized (though the help did try to be keen about it) there wasn't much delay before they were allowed through the door, announced by the butler--as per the Doctor--simply as "the Smiths." Infallible name, that. They were each promptly given the trendiest party favor: one Christmas cracker each. 

They each took an end of the cracker and pulled, first for one and then the other. They did the Doctor's first--he was like an impatient child, Rose knew, and could never wait for a good surprise. The Doctor's cracker contained sugared almonds and a purple paper crown; Rose's contained some bits of dried fruit, a fortune, and an orange crown. 

"Aaah," said the Doctor, picking up the fortune from the floor. He unfolded the bit of paper. "You got something extra. This says..." he squinted, read it again. "Huh. It says, 'kiss her again, you fool.'" The handwriting seemed oddly familiar. The Doctor glanced around, at the windows and the balcony. Nothing moved. "Nah," he said softly. 

"What's that?" Rose asked. She'd been preoccupied with smoothing the wrinkles out of the orange crown, making its points stand up perkily on her head.

The Doctor went to her and held her gently around her waist, which was disturbingly cinched by her corset. He massaged her middle lightly, certain it must be horribly uncomfortable. "Your fortune said I should kiss you," he said softly.

"Oh?" Her face was close to his, her warm eyes wide and mock-alarmed. "But, our reputations...."

The Doctor felt that he fell against her lips; there was no stopping the impulse. Nothing would ever stop this again. 

Rose was the prudent one this time, gently easing him away after a moment. She glanced around them pointedly, communicating their need to be cautious, as much as she had been jesting a moment earlier. 

The Doctor smiled hesitantly and gently backed off. Yes, he'd backed off from her earlier, but that was in the street where anything might happen, not inside the relatively safe glow of a party. She didn't know how little time they had. In her mind, they could do this for...well, for her forever, which she imagined to be with him. It was going to be much shorter than she supposed. And even shorter than that, by this evening's standards.

Still, he took her hand and twirled her off toward the dance floor amidst some whispering; their public display hadn't gone entirely unnoticed. 

The great thing about time traveling, the Doctor thought to himself, was that you gained confidence by not giving a fig. Besides, he was a great dancer, having learned in just about every great city with all the best teachers, and Rose had hardly had a chance to witness that. He couldn't wait to show off.

"I hope you know how to do a diagonal waltz," he said as they entered the ballroom. The band was in full swing.

"No," Rose said, "but maybe you can show me. I took dance when I was younger."

"You took dance?" He asked with interest as they neared the crowd of couples spinning around the floor.

"Mum wouldn't take no for an answer."

 _"Jackie_ thought you should know how to dance?" The Doctor scoffed, grinning. "Such class, that woman. I never knew."

Rose jabbed him with an elbow. "Oi, lay off my mum for the night, okay?" She was smiling in a way that said she knew it was all in good fun and to be expected.

Instead of answering her the Doctor took hold of her suddenly and was stepping without hesitation into the throng of dancers, blending seamlessly. He murmured as they moved, "Three steps clockwise, three straight steps, three steps counter-clockwise, three straight steps...."

Rose followed along a bit hesitantly at first, stumbling against him a couple times and laughing. Finally she became a bit more graceful and lent him a confident smile as they glided along. 

He nodded a bit apologetically. "This is about as wild as it gets, I'm afraid, unless they decide to go full-out for a Mazurka. And that looks a bit ridiculous, so I'd suggest we sit that one out." 

Rose laughed, and they continued twirling about the floor, watching the women's skirts flare and the polished turns taking place around them. It was a bit like being part of a colorful wave.

"Ow!" The Doctor exclaimed suddenly, wincing.

"What is it?" Rose asked, alarmed. She looked down frantically. "Did I step on you?"

"No." He looked pained. "The candelabras." He looked up and Rose followed his gaze to see huge chandeliers above them which swayed gently with the heat their candles expelled. "They drip. I've wax on my neck."

"Ooo," Rose said, making a face. "I'm sorry. This was a horrible suggestion, huh?"

"Pssh," he said. "You think I can't withstand a bit of wax? I would have fought a whole crowd of Cybermen just to dance with you tonight." He looked around them quickly. "Won't complain that they don't seem to be present at the moment, though. That's a good one on the TARDIS, not leading us into imminent danger for our first real date."

"Our first?" She looked skeptical.

"Okay," he conceded. "Not our first. Everywhere we've gone has felt a bit like a date, yeah?"

She was nodding before the sentence had completely left his mouth. "But I'm glad to make it official." She rubbed the tip of his nose gently with her own.

"It's always been tense in the TARDIS, hasn't it?" The Doctor asked, sounding regretful.

"How do you mean?"

The Doctor recounted a memory for her.

__

~~~

"You're repressed," Rose accused. 

They'd just come off a planet where an attractive native had been flirting shamelessly with the Doctor, and the Doctor had--a bit too blatantly--refused to acknowledge her advances, as Rose looked on with jealousy.

"Repressed?! I am not," the Doctor protested, his voice raising a full octave. Then his brow furrowed and his voice dropped again as he asked, "What do you mean?"

Rose pointed to the time rotor pumping up and down. "Remind you of anythin'?"

The Doctor opened his mouth as if to say something, then regarded at the time rotor for a full moment, clueless. Finally his mouth closed, and his face reddened. 

"Yeah, that took a while. How long has it been, then?" Rose spat. 

The Doctor focused on the console, very intent on all the buttons. "I don't like what you're implying about my ship."

"Well, take it personally, then." 

He looked over at her and was surprised to find that she was giving him that tongue-touched grin. She was pulling his leg!

"I am choosing," he said humorlessly, beginning to flip switches, "to ignore this conversation, and this line of questioning."

~~~

"I was a bit uptight," The Doctor admitted. "Not 'cause of her...I got thinking about you and me and close quarters. Guess it was embarrassing having it pointed out like that. I couldn't entertain those sorts of thoughts...you understand."

Yeah. What she didn't understand was why he suddenly could, no matter what they'd been through on Krop Tor. 

They stepped into a Portland, managing as if they'd done a hundred times.

"So," Rose panted, and grinned a naughty grin. "What's had you so wound up, then?"

He smiled, remembering. "Well, the way you dress has left a bit of modesty to be desired."

Rose gave a mock-insulted cry, causing some glances to be thrown their way. "Oh, do specify!"

"Well, as I recall, a few months back you flashed me your knickers and I had to disappear for a bit."

"WHAT???"

"Well, you dropped a piece of candy, and as you bent to retrieve it I saw your thong." He looked casually over her shoulder as they danced.

Rose turned bright red.

__

~~~

"Oh, Doctor, there you are. I was callin' for ya, couldn't you hear me?"

"What? Oh. No, I was in back. Ah, back there." He pointed somewhat all over the place.

"Doing what? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, no, everything's fine! Never been finer. I was just fixing the thing. The whatchamahoosit. Whatchamacallit. No, that's a candy bar...." He dashed over to the console and began flicking levers.

Rose chewed her Jelly Baby thoughtfully, raising one eyebrow as she watched him race around a bit too eagerly. "What's wrong?" 

"Nothing, I've just put us down in the wrong place. Nothing new! HAHA! We're going underwear. ELSEWHERE. We're going ELSEwhere! Allons-Y!"

He slapped a lever so hard he almost broke it.

~~~

At this admission, Rose felt a pleased little flutter in the pit of her stomach. She had to admit that it satisfied her to know she'd had some power over the Doctor for longer than she'd known--that it hadn't always been a one-way street. She'd felt like a puppy at his heel sometimes. Not that he ever meant for her to feel that way, she knew he didn't, and yeah he'd flirted enough, but that was all. Flirting _had_ seemed to be enough, for him. Sexual frustration, though? She never would've guessed it. It was a revenge she was only able to enjoy retroactively.

"I've never seen you so relaxed," Rose said. "'S nice."

"Heyyy! I know how to relax. You've seen me relaxed plenty of times."

"Yeah but, never for this long. Relaxin' like this usually takes place directly before a catastrophe. New New York?"

"Awww well that wasn't so bad," the Doctor enthused. "You, me, the disembodied spirit of a scrap of leather." 

"Cassandra was all right, in the end. Remember how she comforted Chip?"

"Yeah yeah, I'll give her that." He smiled slowly. "She kissed me when she was in your body, you know."

Rose's mouth fell open. "She _what?_ "

He looked delighted, like he'd just surprised someone with the world's juiciest secret. "You don't remember?"

"I remember bits and pieces. Certainly not that."

"Yep," the Doctor said, looking smug. "Quite the snogging. Course, I knew it wasn't you, so fantasy denied. But she kept telling me you thought I was sexy--that she could see into your brain and all that."

"She couldn't get into your head, though. She said you'd shut her out."

"Of course. Learned defense, that. Spent a long time practicing. Part of my training. Too much dangerous information rattling around in the old Time Lord noggin...couldn't risk her having access to that. Or telling you about all of my Rose Tyler fantasies."

How frustrated had he _been,_ exactly? 

They were likely traveling along the same line of thought, because as the music came to an end and they stepped away from the dance floor they gazed at each other intensely, fighting the urge to give in to baser inclinations. All that waiting, and now they'd opened the doors to a flood.

"I'm a bit peckish," Rose admitted in what was obviously her best attempt to distract them both.

"Me too. I think it might be time to find a kind-hearted fool who'll let us join him for dinner. I've got a habit of being invited for Christmas dinner, don't you know?"

* * *

They managed to find their way inside a pleasant holiday party where a feast was laid out on the table that would prove daunting to fifty people. A huge, lovely tree in the hallway was decked with ribbons and dried fruit and candles--the loveliest fire hazard ever, the Doctor noted. There were about thirty people in attendance, and fortunately the Doctor and Rose each found a seat without displacing anyone else. Well, they were _about_ to sit, when they were stopped and questioned.

"Beg pardon," some nosy aunt sniffed at them, "but I don't see a ring on your lady's finger. Aren't you engaged?"

The Doctor's mouth fell open and he floundered momentarily.

"No," Rose said boldly.

The Doctor's mouth shut with a click. There was no holding back Rose's mouth, no sirree.

"I think it's proper you should sit next to me then, dear, and let him sit with the men," the woman said, taking Rose's arm. "I don't recognize you, actually...you are?"

"Rose Tyler," Rose answered. As she was being led off she noticed the Doctor's panic-stricken expression. "It's okay, Doctor. Don't make a fuss, all right?" Her eyes warned him; they'd be thrown out. Any other time she might protest, but right now she was really hungry.

The Doctor paid no attention to her words, grabbing her arm. "I think I'll keep my lady with me, if you don't mind," he said.

The nosy aunt looked completely baffled. "I--well--"

The Doctor was already hauling Rose off toward the door. "Okay," he said. "Bad idea. We'll attract too much attention. I forgot these people have the need to chaperone a couple if they look ready to sneeze."

"I don't understand what the fuss is," Rose said, glancing back and resisting his pull slightly. "They had a goose...."

"The TARDIS can get anything for us," he soothed. "I won't be separated from you."

"By a few chairs?" Rose laughed, then noticed he wasn't laughing. "Doctor?"

"No, not even by a few chairs, not for a second." His jaw was tense. He continued leading her toward the TARDIS, insistently but not roughly. Rose went willingly, frowning.

* * *

The frown softened when the white wine started to flow. The Doctor drank it just for show; it wouldn't affect him the same way it would her. Few alcoholic beverages did.

Rose had changed into a cute pair of Christmas pyjamas and some fluffy polar bear slippers the TARDIS had left for her. The slippers had made the Doctor point and laugh hysterically. The laughter eventually left him holding his stomach.

Now they were sprawled out in the console room on a picnic blanket. The Doctor was in flannel pyjamas, much more dignified than Rose decked in all her sleighs and reindeer. 

"You know there's a planet just for picnics?" The Doctor mused. "All people do is picnic."

Rose just stared at him as if she hadn't heard.

The Doctor leaned to refill her glass, which she was holding stiffly. "What's wrong, Rose?"

He rarely used her name like that, so straightforward. It woke her up a little. She swirled her glass and glanced into the pale liquid as the air bubbles rose slowly to the surface. "I was about to ask you the same, Doctor."

He refilled his own glass, concentrating on the task. "How do you mean?"

"Why wouldn't you stay at the party?"

"I didn't want to be separated from you. This is all still so new, so nice. Just didn't feel right."

"You're the Doctor. You don't shy away from anything. We've been together for ages without being...well...together. What aren't you telling me?"

He could see the fear written all over her face. He gazed at her, tongue-tied.

"Is it what the Beast said, Doctor? I _am_ going to die, aren't I. You can tell me."

He shook his head vehemently. "Gods no, Rose--that isn't it." He put his glass down and leaned toward her, searching her eyes earnestly. "Believe me, that isn't it. You won't ever die, I wouldn't let you. I _told_ you that."

She nodded. "You can hardly control that, Doctor. Not even you. Time Lord and all that...I know you well enough that I know if that was the natural order of things, you wouldn't intervene."

Now he grabbed her shoulders, making her wine slosh from her glass. Her eyes widened. 

_"No._ Only for fixed events, have you got me?" He shook her softly. "Don't you know that? Only for fixed events. Rose, you are not a fixed event. You have variables, you're malleable, you're--"

"Still vulnerable," Rose finished.

What the Doctor did next frightened Rose perhaps more than anything he could have said. He knocked her glass from her hand and lowered himself over her, pinning her to the floor to kiss her fervently. She returned the kiss, helpless not to. 

"Shut up," he whispered, hardly pausing enough to say the words. "You're mine. I won't," He sucked gently at her lips, "let." He kissed her again. "Anything." He began unbuttoning her top, slid his hand inside. He swept over one nipple with the tip of his thumb. "Happen to _you."_

Rose knew when she was being diverted from the truth. She was practically an expert in that now, having dealt with a number of alien races and their interrogation tactics, their ways of revealing only what they wanted to reveal. But she was breathless all the same, because this was her Doctor, and she loved him and trusted him, and these past hours still hardly seemed real. Instead of fighting him she began desperately unbuttoning his flannel top as well, and soon enough they were all mussed hair and entangled limbs. 

The Doctor stroked her face and alternated between kissing her and seemingly memorizing her face as he eased himself into her slowly, again and again, watching her every expression and listening for every catch in her breath. 

"I feel you," he exhaled. "Like nothing I've ever felt."

A tear slid from the corner of her eye. The console lights had dimmed and they were bathed in a warm, comfortable light. She examined his eyes, looked for any deception, any hint that he was holding back from her, but all she saw was a love so intense she couldn't speak. She couldn't question him. Again. Damn, he was the master of that. But she trusted him more than anything else, didn't she?

Her hand slid up the back of his neck, into his soft hair, lowering his face toward hers. She kissed him deeply, her eyes falling shut, her tongue teasing his.

When she finally shuddered against him it was different than before; somehow more powerful, more desperate, as if her body was reading his.

* * *

Somehow they'd ended up back in his bed. Rose wasn't certain of the time--time was very difficult to deal with on the TARDIS. There was a dim light on in the Doctor's room, too, one small sconce near the en suite; Rose was coming to realize that the Doctor never turned that light off, almost as if he was afraid of the dark. 

Her head was still buzzing with the wine they'd consumed earlier; it couldn't be much later. She was draped across him. She stroked the Doctor's chest softly and realized that they were both still undressed. She was relieved; his skin felt so nice pressed to hers. _Forever,_ she thought. "Doctor?" She murmured, cracking her eyes open.

"Hmm?" He was perfectly awake. It was as if he'd been waiting for her to speak. His arms were wrapped around her, and now he squeezed her gently. 

She turned her head against his side and sucked the skin there gently. He tasted like cloves and honeysuckle. She looked at the pink mark she'd left behind. "I love this," she finished lamely.

He snorted softly, a sound in his chest and air through his nose rather than a full-out laugh. Rose bounced with it. "Best understatement I ever agreed with," he said quietly.

"Could we have children?" Rose asked, and then realized what she'd said. Her hand closed in a fist, gently pulling his smattering of chest hair. He seemed to have stopped breathing. "I mean," she scrambled, "I mean is it possible? I mean not that it matters...." She'd woken herself up fully with her own question. She wasn't even entirely certain what she'd meant. "If it mattered, I would have asked sooner." She boosted herself up, with some effort, to look him in the face. 

His eyes were wide. She couldn't read the expression in them.

"I'm sorry," she faltered. "Stupid me, stupid, _stupid_ question...." 

Neither said anything for a long moment, and then she realized he was about to cry again. Her heart began hammering in her chest with fear. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said quickly, tears springing to her own eyes. She left a flutter of kisses on his lips. "I'm sorry...did I say the wrong thing?"

He drew a deep breath, returning her kisses stonily. Finally he pressed a hand against her chest, bidding her to stop. "Rose...."

"Yes? Yes?"

"Something very important that you should know." He tilted his chin down, his eyes flickering to hers, pain-stricken. He looked perfectly human, so much so that Rose forgot for a moment that he wasn't. "I...."

"What?" She encouraged, kicking herself mentally.

He shook his head. "No." He bit his lip. "It isn't possible for us to have children. But if it were, I would. I would...I would marry you."

Rose's eyes widened.

"I would marry you and have children with you and...never part with you. Live out a normal human life and die complete. That's what none of you ever realize. I envy you."

Rose half-smiled at that, against her will, against the seriousness of the moment. "What?"

"You humans...you're fantastic. It's why I spend all my time with you. You're so brave, so intense...you live more in the span of eighty years--on average," he added in a very Doctorish way, "than I've lived in 900-plus. I've almost stopped counting, because it doesn't matter anymore. You just live and you're content, knowing you won't regenerate, you won't get to do it all over again. I'm always chasing...." He stopped.

"Chasing what?" Rose probed.

He looked terrified. He pursed his lips, and after a moment his chin trembled. "You," he said desperately. He looked at her in such a way that she felt like he could be gazing into some mechanical element of the TARDIS, trying to figure it out. "How is it that of everything I've seen in the universe, you're the most amazing? After hundreds of years of traveling, there isn't one other thing I can compare to you."

Rose shook her head. "Shhh. There are so many things still to see. _With_ me." 

Instead of replying he pulled the blankets over them and rolled on top of her, creating a cozy haven. They loved each other until they faded off seamlessly into a heavy sleep. 

That was the last the Doctor knew of her. He thought he'd be wide awake to count down the seconds, but in the end he slipped away from it all in the most human way--helplessly, still believing that more would come.


	7. Ordinary World, Ordinary Desires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "In one painful crescendo all the blame crashed down to suffocate him, inescapable: he'd accepted that 'gift' from the Moorsies, and now it had made Rose vulnerable. It had made these children vulnerable. This was why he had rules in place, why he had always tried to adhere to them so rigidly. He didn't get to have certain experiences, shouldn't even consider them--they were strictly human pursuits."

_What if all the world's inside of your head  
Just creations of your own?  
Your devils and your gods  
All the living and the dead  
And you're really all alone?  
You can live in this illusion  
You can choose to believe  
You keep looking but you can't find the woods  
While you're hiding in the trees_

\--Right Where It Belongs, NIN

 

_Thought I heard you talking softly  
I turned on the lights, the TV, and the radio  
Still I can't escape the ghost of you  
What has happened to it all?  
Crazy some would say  
Where is the life that I recognize?  
Gone away_

_But I won't cry for yesterday  
There's an ordinary world  
Somehow I have to find_

\--Ordinary World, Duran Duran

* * *

This must be a dream.

It _felt_ dreamlike as he walked up to the house the TARDIS had parked across the street from. Every edge, every angle of the world seemed vaguely softened. In places the light blue paint of the house was worn through to gray. The garden wanted attention; the grass and brush had grown out of control. The few struggling trees were black; it was questionable whether they were in fact still alive. An ugly wire fence contained this mess within its own space separate from the rest of the world. A small blessing. 

The Doctor paused on the sidewalk under the sunny sky, hands in his pockets, and watched two young girls playing with a jump rope in front of the house. They didn't have a third partner and so they were improvising; one end of the rope was tied to the pole of a street light. The girl on the other end, who was dressed in a white top and denim shorts, moved her arm in long, tired arcs. The smaller of the two girls, who was carefully timing her jumps, had her dark hair up in pigtails. She was wearing a red shirt that seemed somehow too vivid--it sort of hurt the Doctor's eyes, and he squinted a bit. He was reminded of something, and after a moment he had it: this was like one of those picture books he was always finding in the rooms of young children, the ones that direct the reader to "figure out what's wrong with this scene."

He approached the children, who didn't pause in their game, not even to glance up at him. They were too busy singing their little rhyme.

_"Molly, Molly,  
lost her mother.   
Couldn't find her, chose another--  
better, smarter, faster, fun--  
this mom had ate the other one."_

The Doctor's mouth twisted with distaste as he took in this grotesque little chant. "Pardon me," he interrupted, "but where are your parents?"

The girls wound down slowly and looked at him. They had violet shadows under their blue eyes, and they gave off an air of being too tired to deal with his question. Neither spoke, and then the red-shirted one shrugged her shoulders. This was less than revelatory.

"You don't know?"

The girls regarded each other for a long moment, as if this simple question was too complicated to answer. The one in white sort of looked him up and down. "Do you know Mum and Dad?" It didn't seem to be a challenge; she didn't look particularly invested in his answer.

"Yeah, I'm an old friend," the Doctor lied easily, thinking that if these two believed him and lead him inside that he might have to clunk their parents over their heads for not teaching their children to be wary of strangers. He may as well be here in a van waving candy at them out the window and asking if they want to come see the puppies he keeps in the back.

Sure enough the older girl placed the pink wooden handle of her jump rope down on the pavement and turned to proceed up the broken front walk, her little sister following behind. The Doctor trailed after them, staring up at the house as they approached it. He felt a dull thudding in his temple.

The trio mounted the creaky wooden porch and passed through the front door. Once they were inside, in the cool darkness (odd that there weren't any lights on, the Doctor noted), he asked them their names.

"Jennifer," said the one in red.

"Laura," supplied the one in white. Both used identical, flat tones.

The Doctor smiled at them. "I'm John. Nice to meet you." Then, murmuring to himself, "I think." He rocked on his feet a bit, hands clasped behind his back, and peered off into the living room, trying to see around the corner. "And your parents are...where?"

"They're always somewhere," Jennifer said nonsensically.

"Uh huuuuuh," the Doctor said, raising an eyebrow. He drew his sonic out of his coat pocket and did a quick scan of the sun room (definitely an ironic title), fully taking in his surroundings as he did so. There was a vague smell of despair emanating from the house. His sonic wouldn't register anything. His brow knit together as he shook it gently to see if he could hear a loose connection.

Another oddity: both girls watched him complete his faulty scan and consequently examine his screwdriver, but neither looked surprised or asked him what that strange tool was. Something was very wrong in creep-ville.

"I know!" The Doctor snapped his fingers. "Lets make it a game. First one to help me find your parents gets a...um..." he patted his pockets, reached in, pulled out the first thing. "Sponge. A fantastic sponge, I promise, it cleans everything. Things you didn't even know existed."

The girls stared at him wearily.

He didn't falter, but gestured toward the living room door in a gentlemanly way. "After you." He tucked the sponge absent-mindedly back into his pocket, reminding himself that it was one less thing he needed to bring to parties. Not exactly a hit.

Jennifer turned robotically and headed for the living room. Laura stayed where she was and watched the Doctor walk away after her sister. He glanced back at her as he followed Jennifer, uncomfortable with leaving one of the girls behind. He started to say something, then shut his mouth. Well, it was her house, and she'd been okay there for a long time before his arrival, it seemed. She'd be okay. He hoped.

They passed through the living room. The wallpaper was actually peeling so badly that strips of it were hanging in curlicues, like pencil shavings. The furniture had evidently been nice, once, but now it was all gray and sad looking, quite beaten with use. There was no television in sight (not really a big loss, in the Doctor's eyes, but unusual for a human residence). There was a thin coat of dust settled on all the furniture; the Doctor saw this in an instant with his heightened sight. As Jennifer led him upstairs he noticed that even the bannister was dusty; no hand had slid down it in quite a while. Jennifer didn't touch it on her way up.

Neither spoke; he could hear the girl's soft breath, but other than that the only sound was the soft creaking of the stairs and then the hall they walked down. The blue carpet in the second floor hallway was as worn as everything else. He could hardly make out a pattern of vines twisting an elaborate pattern in the worn nap.

Suddenly the Doctor felt a strong thud in his left temple, and he pressed his fingers to his head automatically, blinked strongly for a moment. He realized that Jennifer was an impossible distance ahead of him; in fact, it seemed as though the hallway was stretching out before them like taffy. Jennifer developed a starburst around her, rays of white light as though she was walking into a bright beam, but there was no light source he could see.

"Wait," he said, but his voice fell flat, as though he had spoken into a pillow. He knew she couldn't hear him. He sprinted to catch up to her, but she disappeared into the dark. 

The Doctor turned in a tight circle in the hall, doing another sweep with his sonic, but all it did was buzz strangely as if it needed a charge. Only his screwdriver didn't need a charge, didn't take a battery, shouldn't need any adjustments. He hesitated a moment and continued on in the direction he last saw Jennifer walking. It didn't take him long to realize that the house had something in common with his TARDIS: it was bigger on the inside. Corridor after corridor twisted in front of him. He turned corner after corner, occasionally calling out to the girls, but all he heard in response was the flatness of complete silence, so complete it almost made his ears ring.

He tried a door to his right, had to jiggle the handle and push with considerable force before it opened. He stood in the door frame for a moment, unable to see anything in the utter blackness. And then he heard breathing. "Jennifer? Laura?"

A pale white hand snaked forward and grabbed his wrist, pulled him into the shadows before he could get his bearings. Someone shoved him, and his back was suddenly flat against a wall. A picture rattled in its frame behind his head. He quickly gained his equilibrium and straightened, his eyes adjusting quickly to the dark, but what they began to make out left him boneless. "Doctor," a voice whispered softly. She leaned into him, exhaled a humid breath against his ear, and he shivered from the top of his scalp all the way to his toes. "Let me take care of you." A suggestive hand slid invitingly down his chest, and he bolted away from the wall and out of the room.

He slammed the door shut and stood in the hallway shaking, eyes wide, staring at the closed door. He adjusted his suit jacket, rolled his shoulders, sniffed, slowed his breath. "Okay," he said evenly. "All right, then. Clues." Something caught his eye and he turned to see light shining from beneath another door. He was fairly certain there was no light there a minute before. He went to the door and opened it carefully, this time braced for anything.

The room was a brightly lit bedroom. There was no one there. There was a canopy bed dressed up in white linen, a little doll resting against the pillows at the headboard. At the foot of the bed was a wooden hope chest. The room was sparsely furnished; other than the bed there was a chair in the corner, a nightstand, a standing wardrobe, and a low table against one wall. On the table were some knickknacks and a clock which, the Doctor quickly noted, had stopped telling time. He walked around and examined everything, feeling certain that whatever he needed to find was in that room. 

His gaze fell to the top of the hope chest. "Hello there," he said quietly. An Oujia board. Not exactly what he expected to find in a room he was starting to believe belonged to one of the girls.

"Don't touch it," implored a voice from his right, and he looked up. It was Laura, standing in the doorway.

"Why's that?"

She stared at the board, and he could see that she was quite nervous. 

"What will the board do if I touch it, Laura?"

She came over to him slowly, looking at him with a mixture of guilt and sadness. "I don't know," she admitted. "I didn't know when _we_ touched it, either."

"You and Jennifer?"

She nodded.

"Where are your parents, then?"

Laura bit her lips, eyes wide as though she was about to admit to some wrongdoing, but was afraid to. 

The Doctor crouched down so he was closer to eye-level with her, and said in an even, soothing voice, "You won't be in trouble. But I need to know so that I can fix it."

Laura gazed at the floor. "You can't fix it when someone's dead."

The Doctor already ran cold as a biological rule, but now he thought his blood might freeze. "Say what?" he asked through numb lips. "Who's dead, Laura?"

"Mum and Dad."

The Doctor was perplexed. "So...wait...who do you live with?"

"Mum and Dad. And the fake mother."

The Doctor reached out and tilted her chin so she would look at him. "You need to tell me the entire story. From the beginning."

* * *

Three years prior, Jennifer and Laura's parents had been killed in an auto accident while traveling overseas. The girls had no living relatives willing or able to claim them, and so they went into the foster care system. A woman named Linda had taken them in and adopted them. As far as the Doctor could tell, she tried to do her best for them--at least at first. Then she began throwing parties that lasted late into the night, and she and her company were sometimes loud enough to wake the girls. The two sisters were never allowed to go downstairs to witness these parties--in fact, they were forbidden to even ask about what took place while they were tucked away in their bed, trying to sleep. (They shared the room he and Laura were now in, the Doctor learned--the little room so devoid of toys except for the one doll and the very inappropriate game sitting on the hope chest.)

Linda's oddities seemed to multiply over time. The girls began to find her frightening. She kept too many locked cupboards, cooked strange things not meant to be eaten, had ominous men to the house who she never introduced.

One day, determined to find out what Linda was really up to, the girls decided to snoop around. They had decided that Linda was a witch, and they wanted proof. They found the Ouija board.

"We used it at night when Linda was sleeping," Laura admitted. "But then...it got strange."

"Go on. Strange how?"

"Appliances started breaking, like the electricity wasn't right. We couldn't get the light in our room to stay on. Linda seemed to be angry all the time. When she noticed the board was missing she really went crazy. We were afraid to tell her we had it."

"So what did you do with it?"

"We kept it. Jennifer wanted to keep using it."

The Doctor nodded.

Jennifer seemed more and more attached to the board as the girls used it to communicate with different spirits, most of whom claimed to be friendly. And then Jennifer made a wish on the board--for their parents to come back and get them away from Linda.

"And they did," Laura said.

The Doctor felt the hair on his arms rise, but kept his voice and face neutral. "They did?"

"Yeah. They're always here now."

"And Linda is...?"

Laura shrugged. "I don't know. Sometimes I think I hear her, but I haven't seen her since Mum and Dad came back."

"So, where are your...parents...now?" The Doctor asked warily, eyes riveted on her face.

Laura's bottom lip trembled. "Can you make them go away? Jennifer won't help me, and I want them to go away."

The Doctor rubbed her arms briskly. "Do they frighten you?"

She nodded, and glanced quickly around. She leaned a bit closer to him and whispered in his ear, "I don't think they're really Mum and Dad."

The Doctor didn't, either. Instead of answering Laura's question, he did what he found safest in moments like this and exuded confidence to hide the fact that he was still formulating a plan. He stood up and took Laura's hand. They were about to leave the room when the Doctor heard a scratching sound behind him. He looked over his shoulder and saw the planchette moving on the Ouija board.

Laura didn't turn, but her whole back went stiff. She was obviously familiar with that sound.

The Doctor had phenomenal eyesight, could take in everything humans could, and most things they couldn't, and he saw those things more sharply than any human had ever dreamed of doing. That was why it was no chore for him to see what the Ouija board was spelling, even from his awkward viewing angle; he knew what it was spelling before it finished.

"G-o...a-w-a-y"

He looked up at the ceiling, addressing the house. "Awww, come on now, that's predictable. Is that really the best you've got? Tsk tsk. No imagination. You really _are_ in trouble now I'm here, aren't you? I mean what, did you think you'd say that and I'd just be like, 'Oh okay mate, I'm in the wrong place?'" He thought a moment and decided the impulse he was entertaining was safe enough to go through with; he went to the chest, took the board, and broke it over his knee with a look of disgust on his face.

Then he took Laura's hand again and led her from the room.

* * *

Though it was day when the Doctor first entered the house, he could see now through every window they passed that the light outside was the blue of late evening. Not possible. He briefly pondered the clock in the girls' room and decided they were most likely experiencing some sort of time anomaly. That helped narrow it down.

Possible triggers for imagined paranormal activity include: excess electrical stimulation to the brain, i.e. faulty wiring; the ideomotor effect born out of the power of suggestion, which is the mechanism usually responsible for the actions of supposedly spine-chilling supernatural apparatus like the Ouija board--only, someone would have to be touching the board for that to happen; infrasound; automatism, which was in fact potentially a bit creepy since the Doctor had previously established that this was sometimes caused by extraterrestrial activity; technological failure; and your run-of-the-mill draft of wind. 

So what was he dealing with here? Ouija board. Time anomaly. Glitchy sonic screwdriver. Ice pick in his temple. Malevolent spirits taking advantage of the naiveté of small children? The actual spirits of Laura and Jennifer's parents? 

The Doctor turned a corner and discovered that, suddenly, he wasn't in the house anymore; he was outside and the day was bright again. He was about ten feet away from the TARDIS. He approached it slowly, reached out to touch the door experimentally--and suddenly he was in darkness again, stroking the wall of the hallway. He closed his eyes, berated himself. He had to get a grip on the situation. He looked around and saw that Laura was gone.

"Laura?" This was worrisome. They were being separated. Whatever was here, it knew that he was a danger.

"Go home, Doctor," a tired voice croaked. It was an ugly voice, female but so ancient it sounded full of dirt, and it made the skin on the back of his neck crawl unbearably. He always read that in books--the skin crawling on the back of someone's neck in a haunted house. Now he knew what was meant by that.

He turned around to see who had addressed him. Standing in the hallway was a woman with dark, curly hair. She was dressed in white pyjamas, as though he'd just disturbed her from her bed.

"Leave my little girls alone," she said in her dead voice.

"They aren't yours," the Doctor challenged. In the darkness he cut quite an imposing figure, his face grim. Pale blue light from the window at the end of the hall limned him.

Something flickered beside the woman, and suddenly there was a blond-haired man standing beside her, similarly dressed. Only the Doctor's eyes moved as he took in this addition without surprise.

"They were ours first," the woman said.

"That would be right, if you were who you claim to be," the Doctor granted. "However, I don't think so. What've you done with Linda?"

"What've you done with Rose?" the man asked.

The Doctor went completely still, not breathing. The air in the hallway seemed to become charged, or maybe it was just that his ears were suddenly buzzing with a mixture of fear and anger, blood roaring through his head. He did his best to maintain his placid exterior. He decided not to answer; better not to fall into the trap. Safer.

"I will find out what you are, so you may as well cooperate. I don't take kindly to beings who hold children hostage. Piss me off a little more--" he said, his voice rising an octave, "just a little--and see what I do." Swearing was still relatively new for the Doctor, and it still felt strange to his tongue, but it felt like something else as well--a relief. A small, verbal triumph. It was a bit childish, but he'd take his satisfaction where he could get it these days. 

"I've seen you serious. It was sweet." The woman-thing smiled widely, and it was a nasty smile. She'd had one hand behind her back this entire time, and the Doctor had been waiting patiently to see why. She brought it forward now, and he saw that she held a small wooden box. 

The Doctor stared at it, his eyes widening. She hadn't said what it was, but she doesn't need to. He was a Time Lord, and he could feel it. 

Oh. _Oh._ God. No.

That charged air, that feeling he'd mistaken for his own rising tension, made sense now.

He lifted one placating hand in a silent plea. "Please don't."

"Leave us to our children."

He took a deep breath, and finally blew it out in a mock-apologetic puff. "The only problem," he said very, very slowly, "is that they aren't yours."

"This day wasn't yours to have," the woman-thing said ominously. "We will open it and she will not withstand the paradox."

"Unless." The man-thing grinned his own ugly grin. 

That smile was the same on every stupid creature that got in his way, wasn't it? The universal smile of an idiot.

What the man was intimating was not news to the Doctor. _"Eventually,"_ the Moorsie had said. _"She will remember when she needs to most."_

He hadn't understood then, but by now he had long since pinpointed when that time would come. But it wouldn't come today.

He understood something, though--understood it immediately. Linda had opened a small portal in time. Stupid, oblivious human. She'd done it in the name of "witchcraft," to mold and play with past and future events-- _with no understanding of what she was doing._ There were creatures living just outside the Vortex, right on the periphery of every world and every time, creatures who were more than eager for a chance to slip through and wreak havoc. They had the ability to modify time in this house, create a little stand-still where the dead were free to roam. Only, these beings before him weren't really the dead--they were illusions of the dead, puppeted emotions and memories. Namely Laura and Jennifer's memories. And anyone else who entered the house was prey to this effect as well.

Including him. Him and his dead day, his day outside of time. Which made him, ironically, the very worst person to try to come here and fix this problem. And these creatures knew it. They were right--if they opened the box and let the encapsulated time out--the time they'd captured as their weapon--time lines would collide and it would tear Rose's mind apart.

But would it really? The Doctor considered this, pondered it quickly, calculating. Rose once absorbed the entire Time Vortex. She was even now _still_ the Bad Wolf, somewhere inside.

 _Yes,_ he reminded himself, _but the difference this time is that you aren't there to absorb the excess energy for her. It will drive her mad, maybe kill her. Almost certainly kill her. And the last thing she'll understand is that it's your fault._

In one painful crescendo all the blame crashed down to suffocate him, inescapable: he'd accepted that "gift" from the Moorsies, and now it had made Rose vulnerable. It had made these children vulnerable. This was why he had rules in place, why he had always tried to adhere to them so rigidly. He didn't get to have certain experiences, shouldn't even consider them--they were strictly human pursuits. 

He'd once told Rose stonily that he didn't do domestic. He'd had better reasons for that than she could comprehend. And here it was: the people he chose to love would always pay the ultimate price for his selfish needs.

Torchwood had been avoidable. Torchwood was entirely his creation; Torchwood is the reason he has been separated from Rose. He, is the reason he has been separated from Rose.

Is there anything, ANYTHING, he has not fucked up in this regeneration? He has let himself get caught up, has let himself act... _human._ The word sounds dirty in his mind, like one of the swear words he's still unaccustomed to. It's a voice from his past, the voice of former regenerations who knew better, behaved better.

He's supposed to be...superior. He's not supposed to crave human things.

But he does. He wants what humans have. Ever since he began acknowledging that to himself he has considered it his biggest flaw.

These thoughts came and went in an instant behind his eyes, but they didn't even register as a flicker. It wasn't only his TARDIS that could travel deftly through time and space; after nine hundred and six years alive, his mind had grown even more adept at doing the same. Sometimes the amount of thought that occurred between one gesture and the resulting fallout was so substantial that he was certain nothing but a Time Lord would be able to withstand it. A bittersweet strength to possess.

He took another fraction of a second to consider what was really taking place here.

These beings--these Vortex vultures--hadn't unleashed any actual time anomalies in the house; they were only parodying that they had because they wanted to play. This was a setup, a stage set, and they had just enough information to make it work. Parlor tricks. There was no paradox here, no conundrum, not yet. But what about when playtime was over and the big guns were brought out? Jennifer and Laura would get their parents back for real, but not in the way they'd probably want.

But why would these things do this, play like this?

Simple. The vultures wanted what humans wanted, too.

"Mum? Dad?" A small voice came from behind the Doctor. The vultures looked past him and smiled.

The Doctor turned to see Jennifer and Laura there in the hallway, holding hands and cautiously approaching. Jennifer looked afraid of the Doctor; she was doing her best to hide behind her sister. 

"Yes," said the male vulture. He bent down on one knee and held his arms out to the girls. "Come here."

The girls ran forward--and the Doctor whipped out his sonic and pointed it at them. "Not so fast," he said. 

The girls halted in their tracks, eyes wide. Laura started crying almost immediately; Jennifer appeared to be frozen with fear.

The Doctor hadn't missed the vultures' audible gasps. He turned his head to look at them, keeping his sonic trained on the girls. "Give me that box, or you'll never hold your children again," he said coldly. 

The female vulture had the nerve to grin widely and laugh. "Don't be ridiculous," she gasped with mirth. Her expression turned to one of scorn. "Do you really think we believe you'd hurt the children you've come to protect?" She clasped the box, looking ready to pry it open. "If you want to play Chicken, I'd reconsider. Another game, maybe. Russian roulette?"

The Doctor squeezed his eyes shut, shook his head frantically, swallowed hard. He finally opened his eyes, panting with the strain of his emotions. "There's nothing I wouldn't do for Rose," he growled, his voice so low it was almost a whisper. His eyes burned, Oncoming Storm and fire and ice. "Just. Fucking. Try me." 

For a moment they all stayed frozen where they were, everyone considering how to proceed. Finally, the female vulture made a move as if to open the box--

"I warned you," the Doctor said. He turned and shot the girls without a moment's hesitation. 

They cried out as they fell to the carpeting of the hallway in a shower of blue sparks. Laura was unconscious the moment she went down; Jennifer folded in half, clutching her stomach. She reached out for the vultures. "Mum--" she gasped, her voice strained with pain.

The vultures cried out, dashing forward--

the Doctor caught the female, threw her backward hard. The box landed in the hallway on its side. The Doctor landed on top of the evil creature and kicked out with one trainer, knocking the box far out of reach.

The thing clawed at him frantically. "YOU'VE KILLED THEM! YOU'VE KILLED MY BABIES!"

The Doctor grinned rabidly down into her face. He reached behind himself, struggled with something in his back pocket, and hauled it forward: handcuffs. He slapped one cuff roughly on one of her wrists with a snap, then moved lighting-fast to slap the other on the male vulture's wrist before he could have time to react--he was too distracted mourning over "his children" anyway. The Doctor yanked backward and the man tumbled to the carpet, weeping. 

"You," the Doctor hissed into their faces, "are _phenomenally stupid._ Don't you _know who I am? You don't, do you?"_ He laughed, his first genuine laugh in a long time. He almost pitied them, might, even, if he didn't know how much harm they would enjoy inflicting on this world he'd fought so many times to protect.

They blinked up at him, tears on their faces.

He sobered, the smile falling from his face. "I'm the Doctor," he said, his words heavy with the connotation of the words, and their eyes filled with awe and slow-dawning terror.

The Doctor privately relished this for a moment, and then yanked on them again, hauling them up. "Take the illusion from this house and I _might_ go easy on you."

The woman was still crying silently; the man looked broken. It was a nice show, but their grief was for them, and them alone. Slowly the hallway began to fill with light.

"That's better," the Doctor muttered, and began walking, leading them. He stooped to pick up the time-box on his way by and tucked it into an inner coat pocket.

"You're supposed to be a hero," the woman spat at him. "The legendary Doctor. Killer of children!"

The Doctor flashed her a bright smile. "Oh yeah, about that. There's something else you missed, other than the obvious bit about how you stupidly decided to take _me_ on."

Now that the house was considerably smaller, he had no trouble finding his way downstairs and into the living room where Linda sat with the children, clutching them on the couch. The vultures gaped, heads turning to stare as they were hauled past. "That," the Doctor indicated. "You missed that. What you built here was essentially a heavy dream-state. You got selfish and had to play with the situation, live out your own desires, so instead of actually releasing the past you just sort of re-created it." He flashed them his teeth in an angry grin. "And I'm telepathic, you dolts. I can modify a dream state, to some extent, even if it isn't mine."

They'd arrived at the TARDIS, where the Doctor promptly shoved them roughly into a cage his ship had provided. He slammed it shut and locked it. "Oh yeah," he said airily, "the handcuffs weren't real, either. But don't mistake the fact that you are _mentally_ cuffed." 

The vultures looked down at their wrists, which were free. They each fired black looks at him.

The Doctor turned on his heel and stormed back out of the TARDIS. He wasn't done here yet. He marched up the porch and back into the house. He found that the girls were still with Linda in the living room. "Oooh, look!" he exclaimed jovially. "Biscuits, you're all having biscuits now, how nice!" 

Linda looked like she was going to disappear into the couch. She didn't know who he was, but she knew he meant trouble, and she was trembling like a rabbit, pale as milk as she looked at him. 

The Doctor bent and clasped Jennifer's right shoulder, Laura's left. "Are you all right?"

Both girls nodded solemnly. Laura wiped crumbs away from her mouth with the back of her hand. 

The Doctor smiled kindly. "Lesson learned? Don't play with anything that isn't a toy, yeah? You're old enough, I know we understand each other."

They nodded again. "Good." He gave them a gentle push. "Go upstairs...I need a minute with your mother."

The girls started to turn to go. 

"Oh, wait a tick," the Doctor said, and reached into his pocket. "Second rule...the Doctor keeps the promises he makes to children." He handed the sponge to Laura, who grinned at him sunnily before turning and running up the stairs with her sister. The Doctor watched them go, a hard lump of sadness forming in the center of his chest, between his hearts.

"I don't know how you did it," Linda squeaked, still looking as though she might retreat between the couch cushions at any moment.

"No, but I know how _you_ did," the Doctor stated flatly, standing. He slid his hands in his pockets, his expression firm.

Linda swallowed, coughed. Her throat was evidently very dry.

The Doctor nodded once at the glass in front of her.

Linda grabbed for it gratefully, her hands shaking, and took a long drink. Finally she set the glass back down.

"You have children. Do you know what a gift that is?"

Linda just regarded him, like a fish wriggling idiotically at the side of an aquarium.

"No," the Doctor said bitterly. He looked away, out the living room windows, fighting to control his temper. "I guess you don't. You just take it for granted."

"No, I--"

 _"YOU DO!"_ the Doctor yelled, so loudly that the glass in the coffee table rattled and rings appeared in her water. Linda shrank into the couch, clutching at her blouse. 

The Doctor rubbed his hands down his face. He sighed, rested his hands on his hips as he evaluated her. "You have no idea how dangerous it is, what you've been doing. Those girls could have died today. Or worse. And _yes, yes,_ there _is_ worse. You have no idea what you've been playing at. Haven't you ever heard that witchcraft is satanic?"

Linda nodded, obviously afraid to speak at this point lest she should piss him off further.

"That was a little myth started by _my_ people. I'm a Time Lord. Are you starting to grasp why I'm here, yet? You've messed with _time_ , you let dangerous things through. They had you trapped underneath their illusion, on an entirely different plane. They could have locked you out forever." Parallel worlds. The Doctor knew a bit too much about those.

Tears were spilling down Linda's cheeks. The Doctor looked at her hard and realized that she'd reached her emotional max. He could stand there forever explaining what she'd done and why it was so dangerous, but she wouldn't really hear him.

"I'm going to come back and check on you. Think of me as social services and let that motivate you. I _can_ take them away, and if I see fit to next time, I _will_ do it. They need toys, structure, an available parent. They need to be _kids._ Their parents are gone--they've had it hard enough."

Linda nodded rapidly, gratefully.

As the Doctor headed for the door something else occurred to him and he turned back around. "Tell them to keep away from strangers. Should have done long ago."

He returned to the TARDIS to bring the vultures to the Shadow Proclamation to be dealt with. When that was all set he launched himself back into the Vortex. He removed the small time box from his inner coat pocket a bit reverently, but his hands were trembling. To be honest, he wasn't certain what to do with it. Every possibility seemed too dangerous. Finally, he went deep inside the TARDIS and stored it in a safe he knew no one could access without his--or his ship's--explicit permission. The box would be safe enough there. It wouldn't need to be safe forever.

He returned to the console room and collapsed on the jump seat with a deep sigh.

* * *

He traveled the Earth as a dead man might travel through uncharted levels of hell: with only his thoughts to keep him company.

He took the TARDIS but walked relentless distances at every stop, wearing his trainers out. The anomalous thing about this travelling was that he never left Earth: he went to every location he'd ever heard Rose talk about, every location he could imagine her visiting, sights he thought she'd love to see: a Bazaar in Istanbul, Times Square, Notre Dame, St. Peter's Basilica, museums and national parks, the Sydney Opera House, Bourbon Street in New Orleans. Anywhere bright and beautiful and full of people, or peaceful and close to nature. He passed through many churches and would often sit in the back pew and rest a while. It wasn't that he was religious, of course; it wasn't even that he cared to study how humans worshiped. He already knew most everything there was to know about that, anyway. It was just quiet there in those churches, hushed. Churches were full of a great reverence on every planet; collective contemplation had made them this way. There was even a science to it, but the Doctor batted the odds and equations out of his mind and watched candles flicker, took in the stained glass art and painted ceilings. Sometimes he closed his eyes in those places and saw her face. He always felt closer to her in spaces some would call sacred.

* * *

Every time he slept, now, the first thing he did upon waking was vomit. It became automatic, part of his routine: wake up, run to the toilet and vomit, brush his teeth, take a shower, fix his hair and dress. Sometimes even when he hadn't slept he'd excuse himself from Martha or Donna's company to be sick, and then he knew it was likely morning to the TARDIS. He joked privately with himself about it; morning sickness.

He remembered thinking he would be able to somewhat bear his pain as long as he knew he'd made Rose happy during their brief time together with only the truth between them. He grasped at that like a drowning man, trying to be nothing but grateful for their time together: he remembered the way she'd smiled running up the ramp toward him, the way she'd felt when he lifted her, knowing that this time he _would_ kiss the girl.

The way she'd giggled when he said he doubted if _this_ was what was meant by "the stuff of legend."

Her tears against his neck. _"I love you too. I think I've loved you from the moment I met you."_

 _"Well...I think I loved_ you _before that."_

His final memories just before sleeping; how she'd leaned over him with her hair all in her face, reminding him of that day on New Earth when the wind had swept over them relentlessly as they overlooked the city from their hill of apple grass. He recalled himself (last night? When? _Never?_ ) half-dazed with a pleasant exhaustion, reaching up to sweep that hair back. She bent forward to kiss him and they whispered it back and forth until it began to sound like a prayer, as if she did understand: 

_"I love you."_

_"I love you."_

How they never stopped whispering that as they rolled, touched, gasped with completion, began again. And again. Whole universes could have imploded around them and they wouldn't have known, wouldn't have cared.

He had never vomited before that first morning after their day outside of time, not ever--he hadn't even been aware it was possible. He usually relished any new experience--good or bad--to some degree, particularly since so few experiences were new to him at this point. But not this. He did not relish this, because behind it lurked a feeling he was only used to experiencing when the knowledge came upon him that he was about to regenerate, and that the self he currently inhabited would die.

He'd considered all these things on that first morning, then vomited a second time. He'd stared into the bowl and reached up numbly to flush, then stayed steady where he was for a minute, trying to decide if he was finished. It had seemed so.

By the time he did it again ten minutes later while preparing for his shower, barely making it to the toilet in time, he was becoming quite concerned. He didn't seem able to stop his physical reaction to the loss he was feeling. What if he couldn't? What did one even _do_ for vomiting? He quickly mentally categorized all the remedies he knew for human illnesses, since this was unheard of for a Time Lord. Ginger--no, he didn't particularly like the taste. Strange thing, ginger. For hair it was lovely, but as a food item it was too undecided about itself. Okay. There was that pink goo, what was it called--Pepto. Frankly, that stuff looked rancid. The Doctor wasn't sure he could ingest anything so pink, it just didn't seem right. Ipecac? No, that was to _induce_ vomiting. He certainly wasn't in need of that.

He would just wait it out. It was to be expected; he'd come back to himself feeling that something was missing, something essential.

Well. Something essential was. But other than her.

And looking back on their day together...that was another thing. He could remember it happening, but he could also remember it not happening. Both felt equally true. It was extremely disorienting, and if it felt that way for him, he could only guess how it might one day feel for Rose.

He had sat on his bed, closed his eyes, and bowed his head. For a long time hot tears rolled silently down his face while he searched for an inner stillness he would never have again.

His only consolation was beginning to travel in earnest again. He threw himself back into the work of the universe, into the needs of others. That was default mode, and it agreed with him--even if he was pretending. There were moments when he wasn't even pretending, after a while. He belonged in the TARDIS, among the stars, not wandering 21st century Earth, lovesick.

He sometimes wondered if, wherever she was, Rose was moving on. He couldn't very well hope she wasn't; he wanted her to be happy.

She deserved that. He didn't, but she did.

Martha was smitten with him; she turned green with envy any time Rose was mentioned. She couldn't see his loneliness, but Donna did. Kind Donna. For all her bravado and her glib ways, he knew that she saw. He could feel the comfort emanating from her, particularly at night when she couldn't sleep and would find him in the console room staring out the door into space, or in the library, stretched out on the couch with an open book on his stomach. She'd come sit near him and joke lightly about something, or offer to make a cup of tea. A few times she even gently prodded him about Rose and sometimes, in the most quiet and vulnerable hours on the TARDIS, he would relent and share a story of the travels he had shared with her. Donna smiled warmly at these stories, her eyes all lit up. Her eyes said it all: they said _I know you love her._

He never wished for Donna to understand his pain, but it helped that she knew. It took some of the weight of it off his shoulders, as if in knowing about her, Donna was keeping Rose present.

He never told her about his day outside of time with Rose of course; wouldn't have even if it hadn't been potentially dangerous to. It was too painful. And, of course, during the day he and Donna never spoke of their revelatory conversations, never alluded to Rose or the sadness he was learning to hide so well.

* * *

And then the stars started going out, and one day Donna told him that she'd met a blonde woman who had told her to give him a message: Bad Wolf.

He felt his hearts jolt when she said it, a surge of adrenaline that shot from head to toe; he was stricken with fear and unbearably eager at the same time. He understood, however, what it meant: the universe was in grave danger. Rose couldn't just pop 'round to meet Donna. She'd come through for a reason. The Doctor set about trying to figure out was wrong, to fix it, trying not to allow himself the hope that one day he might turn a corner and see her.

Of course, even if she did appear to him she wouldn't remember their time together. He remembered the way her face had crumpled on the beach right before she'd broken and told him that she loved him; that version of Rose had no idea how he felt, had never known his touch. Regret swept strongly through him as he mulled that over. He'd grown used to thinking of her in terms of death, for as much as he had any hope of being with her ever again. It had already been so long. An eternity. He'd even started learning how to swallow down the urge to cry when he remembered, hardening himself, steeling himself for his future without her--however long it might last.

Then, one day when he asked Donna to clarify for him _exactly_ what Rose had told her, she responded with a question. "Why don't you ask her yourself?" and her eyes sparkled in that gentle way they so often did on those nights she found him sleepless. He'd stopped breathing, thinking she must be mistaken, afraid--so afraid--to turn around. If he turned around he was either going to be very, very disappointed...or very, very happy. Happier than he'd ever been--well, at least since he'd felt her warm body in his bed, her skin against his.

It felt like it took a year, but turn he finally had, turned to see a blonde-haired girl walking down the street, through the darkness. He stared and stared, wanting to be sure, not able to reconcile what he saw with what his hearts knew.

She'd smiled, and his doubt had slipped away like a silk scarf from a doorknob. She began running toward him, her eyes lit up with excitement. He'd never been able to resist her enthusiasm, and this suddenly felt like maybe it was just another one of their adventures, a chapter they were closing, and when his body finally allowed him to move he began running toward her as well, his hope gaining momentum with his speed--

(Could it be true? Could he really have another chance with her? His hearts were bursting--)

and then he'd heard the Dalek cry, "EXTERMINATE!"

Movement in the corner of his eye.

He'd turned his head toward it as if in slow motion--

and then he was down on the pavement, his entire body on fire. Rose leaned over him through a fog, her lips moving--"I've got you," she said.

"Rose," he groaned, smiling the best he could manage. "Long time no see." 

"Yeah. Been busy, you know," she said, trying to be jovial, trying on the light tone of their old banter--and then the pain ripped through him and he arched helplessly with it.

She asked him not to die, silly request--but he could feel himself fading, descending into an utter blackness where there was no universe; it was as though a million electrical shocks were traveling through him, like he was being stabbed with a thousand knives, his veins being sliced open, and his mind could think only one thing: _TARDIS, to the TARDIS, TARDIS...._ It was an instinctual imperative; he was going to regenerate.


	8. Still You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"What's happening?" Donna cried._
> 
> Jack scrambled across the floor to the Doctor and took his head, cradling it, a stricken expression on his face.
> 
> Donna watched Jack for a long, pregnant moment, mouth moving soundlessly. "Is he--?"
> 
> ***chapter reflects but does not follow "Journey's End."***  
> 

_"It's a death,  
You won't say my name  
You won't watch me sleep  
You won't turn my eyes  
You won't shut your mouth  
When I hold my breath  
When I break your stare  
When I'm caving in.  
I want to keep you inside  
Say our prayers  
And live in a lie  
Pull the stars that hang in the sky  
And sleep with our bodies frozen in time."_

\--I Won't Bend, Dawn Golden

_Now I can't feel  
A thing  
Here it comes  
The unavoidable sum  
Of what's just happened  
And what's been done  
And you know  
I don't remember a thing  
I don't remember  
A thing_

\--The Sun, The Naked And Famous

***

He would never want to explain to anyone how this felt--useless, words, and never so much so as under these circumstances. This was a feeling like being wrenched apart, yet fading out; like you were nothing more than a handful of sand, and yet a sheet of nerves being stretched out, flaming, burning, screaming--and in a strange way it also felt good at moments...there was an anxiousness in every synapse, as if was not just a death but a birth that was happening, and he could feel that on a cellular level, and every cell was surprised. All of this sensation was involuntary, emotion without thought--it just was what it was. And it was this, again.

The light exploding. He held onto conscious thought, held onto it--to _himself_ \--so hard that it felt like his mind was bleeding, held onto it just long enough to grasp the tail end of a thought--an idea--wait, there was something, wait--

he turned suddenly and directed himself at his own severed hand. Focused all his intent there, all the raging Time Lord energy he was helpless to and yet master of in this one strange and crucial moment. The hand was nothing but a receptacle, he was nothing but a receptacle, never had been, never would be--

and then it was over.

He stood straight, panting, and faced his friends. "Now then. Where were we?"

He bent to look at his hand in its glass casing. It had gone gray, but he gave it a little smile and blew the golden time energy away from it as though he were cooling a cup of tea. He reveled in a private moment of triumph, a moment gone by so quick no one ever could have understood the depth to which he felt it.

Then he popped back up. "You see? Used the regeneration energy to heal m'self, but soon as that was done, I didn't _need_ to change. I didn't want to." He wasn't blind; he could see the trauma in their faces. He had to reassure them he was still his same old self. "Why would I?" he asked flippantly, adjusting his tie. "Look at me. So to stop the energy going all the way, I siphoned off the rest into a handy bio-matching receptacle. Namely, my hand--that hand there. My handy spare hand." His tone was jovial, but his eyes flicked to Rose's face briefly. He felt a molten hand clench in his stomach when he glimpsed her face. He wanted her so badly--wanted her forever. And gods, it hurt.

_"Good hand?" she'd asked._

_"Handiest hand ever," he'd replied._

"Remember?" he asked, half-hinting, half-hoping, knowing that this still wasn't the time. He pretended to only be asking exactly what he was asking. "Christmas day? Sycorax? Lost my hand in a sword fight? That's my hand."

His eyes were on her now, her only. He couldn't keep them off her. He tried to keep his expression appropriately jovial, nothing more, but inside he was drinking in the sight of her face with the full intensity of the regeneration still humming under his skin like electricity or a perfect resonance. He knew that intensity wouldn't burn off for a day or so. It made him want to stride over to her, take her sweet face between his hands, and kiss her. And, well. More.

But they had never kissed like that, not really. So, feeling like he had a burning steel nail in the center of his chest he settled for asking, "What do you think?"

She stepped hesitantly, fearfully, toward him. "You're still you?"

He smiled, bursting with joy on the inside despite the background static of the other emotions warring within him. "I'm still me." 

_And you're still you,_ he thought with immense gratitude.

She nodded once, almost imperceptibly, her face simultaneously full of hope and a terrible hurt that said it all, and threw herself into his arms. He caught her eagerly, his eyes closing in relief of their own accord as he pressed her to him. He laughed happily through his nose. Rose pressed her face into his shoulder as if she couldn't get close enough to him.

The Doctor caught just a glimpse of Jack beaming a 1000-watt smile beyond her shoulder. 

Donna was noticing Jack's smile as well. "You can hug me if you want," she suggested.

Jack glanced at her and laughed good-naturedly.

Donna grinned back for a moment longer before she realized he wasn't making a move. The smile fell from her face and her tone shifted to one bordering on command. "No, really. You can hug me."

It was peripheral, the banter of his friends. Rose was in his arms, warm and safe, and soft, and wonderful. And her smell...she smelled slightly different now, it was a deeper, muskier sort of perfume, or maybe combination of lotions and shampoo, but that was okay...it was nice. Gods, it was so nice. He found himself categorizing every scent, every chemical component. He wanted to lose himself in it properly, but now wasn't the time.

He felt her hand fist in the material of his suit jacket, a tight squeeze in the center of his back. It was a reflection of what he was feeling himself; he didn't have to be telepathic to know. Not with her.

***

He tried not to sound like he was saying goodbye to them as they prepared to step outside the TARDIS. "It's been good though, hasn't it? All of us, all of it, everything we did...."

They were brave--they always were. That's why he'd chosen them. And they followed him out of the safety of his strange blue box just as they had always followed him in: confidently. 

All but one, anyway. The door slammed shut on her, and she began to pound. "Doctor!!!"

He rushed back to the box, tried to pry at the doors as she cried frantically from inside, "What's happening?! Let me out!"

"I...can't get it open!" he said, just as frantically. He tried to pry the doors, ripping his nails in the process, but not noticing. He pulled until the muscles in his forearms strained painfully. No, this couldn't be happening. _This couldn't be happening._

"This can't be happening again!" Rose screamed hysterically from inside, clawing at the doors, mirroring the Doctor's hysteria.

He spun around to address the Supreme Dalek. "What did you do?!"

"This is not of Dalek origin," it replied. Was it--did it--did it almost sound _offended?_

"Doctor! Please!" Rose pleaded. Her voice was already hoarse; he could tell she was crying.

"Stop it! She's my friend!" The Doctor demanded, out of his mind with rage. "Now open the door and let her out!"

"This is Time Lord treachery," the Dalek accused.

"Please, the door just closed on its own!" the Doctor growled, eyes gleaming dangerously.

"Nevertheless," said the Supreme Dalek, "the TARDIS is a weapon, and it will be destroyed."

The Doctor heard a sound and knew what it was even before he could begin to turn. He just managed to catch a glimpse of his beloved TARDIS disappearing through a trap door in the floor. He ran to the hole, so close to the edge he almost skidded in, and he stared down wild-eyed and panting. 

He turned again and rushed toward the Supreme Dalek like a caged animal who has been poked one too many times. He felt the pounding of the blood rushing to his head in his fury; he saw spots. "What are you doing?! Bring it back! What have you done? Where's it going???"

"The Crucible has a heart of z-neutrino energy. The TARDIS will be deposited into the core. "

The Doctor just stared at the overgrown tin can for a moment, his head buzzing, the world going a bit fuzzy. "But you can't, you've taken the defenses down." He noted distantly that he sounded desperate, that he was actually pleading. Which was bloody stupid since obviously the Dalek didn't care--it would delight in the destruction of everything he loved. Rose and his TARDIS--there _was_ nothing else, because there was nothing without them. "It'll be torn apart!"

Jack dashed forward to join him--as if there was anything he could do. "Let Rose go!"

"The female and the TARDIS will perish together. Observe. The last child of Gallifrey is powerless." 

A virtual screen blinked into life above them, and there it was: his TARDIS at the heart of the Crucible. About to burn. With Rose inside. The Doctor, Donna, and Jack stood and stared at the screen in silence.

***

Things were bursting around her, exploding, the TARDIS humming in a strange pitch Rose had never heard before. It was almost a...a frightened sound. She was giving in to her own destruction one non-essential item at a time as though trying to delay the inevitable conclusion. Flames burst from her equipment. Electronics popped like logs in a campfire.

This was his place, the Doctor's place, the Doctor's home...her home. Rose felt herself struggling with consciousness, a darkness funneling through her mind, trying to pull her down with it.

She coughed, choking on smoke and shaking all over. She acknowledged with resignation that she was never going to see the Doctor again. He might be able to find a way to save her--he always found a way--but he had his hands full, and the universe would come first. He'd been right _there_ though. And now she wouldn't make it back to him, couldn't make it back to say...

what she'd already said. And give him the chance not to say it again.

This last bit was only a ghost whispering in the back of her head. It didn't bloody matter--she was dying and she loved him and she'd always love him, and he knew that, and it was fine--he didn't have to love her back. They had...something. They'd always had something. She might never know what, but something with the Doctor was better than a lifetime of anything with anyone else.

His soft fingers tickling the palm of her hand playfully one night when they sat watching a movie in the library. She'd glanced sidelong at him and caught him doing the same in return even as he raised a handful of popcorn to his mouth. He'd winked at her and she'd grinned like a fool and bit her lips, trying not to show too much, trying to focus on the movie, telling herself, _He was just tickling you. Nothing more; that's it._

The time on the Jafros moon when he'd tripped on a tree root in the dark and gone stumbling into her, stepping hard on her foot. He'd apologized over and over like a fool, insisting on stopping then and there to examine her. The idiot. He was daft enough to sit there gingerly holding her foot while he fished a mini torch from his pocket to get a better look at it. "What do they do on your planet when this happens? Aaah, I know," he'd said, and before she knew what he was up to he bent and kissed her foot gently. 

"Doctor, that's for children," she'd giggled. "No one actually kisses anything better. You know that doesn't work, right?"

"Oh," he'd said, as though she had illuminated something for him, but the way he smiled at her as he rolled her sock back on informed her that he knew. Of course he knew.

Some other whisper. There was some other whisper at the back of her mind, as well, and the smoke in her lungs seemed to cool as she tilted her head to listen to it. 

In her mind she saw the Doctor--her Doctor--in his last body. That gorgeous face, that leather jacket she'd been so fond of. She saw him looking at her in awe. 

No--he'd never looked at her like that. Had he? 

She paused where she was, on the metal grating of the TARDIS floor, and pressed her fingers softly to her lips. He'd kissed her, once, her Doctor with the blue eyes--how had she forgotten? Kissed her, and meant it, but...there was something else. Something nagging for her attention.

She turned her head and saw his hand in its little glass casing. It was--for the second time that day--glowing. 

Rose sucked in a breath, reaching out involuntarily toward the hand--and the energy saw her and seized her. It pulled itself to her, and her to it, with authority.

It wasn't a curse. It was a promise, Bad Wolf Bay. That they would meet again.

***

"You are connected to the TARDIS," the Supreme Dalek delighted. "Now feel it die."

The Doctor stared at the screen, blazing with fear and anger. As he watched the TARDIS fade from sight he made a hard vow in his hearts: the Daleks would pay more deeply for reveling in his pain than they could imagine. Their mistake was keeping him alive, thinking they were in control of what would happen next.

_In the TARDIS, Rose was climbing onto her haunches, her eyes flaring a vivid gold before darkening again to brown._

The Doctor didn't feel the TARDIS. Couldn't hear it, couldn't sense it. Nothing. Why? He held onto the look of hatred he knew his face betrayed, but felt a small feather of hope.

"The TARDIS has been destroyed. Now tell me Doctor, what do you feel? Anger? Sorrow? Despair?"

"Yeah," the Doctor said, affecting a numbness he didn't entirely feel. He was the master of pretending.

"Then, if emotions are so important, surely we have enhanced you," the Dalek taunted.

"Yeah? Feel this!!!" 

The Doctor turned. The Doctor saw Jack pointing a weapon stupidly at the Dalek. Saw him doing the rash thing that would cost him another life. And it was brilliant; it would supposedly put him out of the game. Good one on you, Jack.

***

He had been ready to give up, had been accepting his fate, defeated and bitter...almost more by the behavior of his former companions than by anything Davros and Dalek Cann said or did. This was what Jack'd had up his sleeve? The Doctor had been confident that his friends would come up with something brilliant--they always did. But what they'd come up with was...well. Davros was right; the Doctor had turned his own friends into weapons. He didn't need to hear the demented freak say it out loud. He stared down at his trainers, overwhelmed with shame and sadness. More than a little bitterness too, if he was completely honest.

And then the noise of the TARDIS filled the vault, and the Doctor lifted his head. "But that's...."

Dalek Cann chuckled madly.

"Impossible," Davros finished, sounding just a bit afraid.

And there she was, and her doors were opening. And Rose stepped out, brandishing a weapon. The Doctor's eyes widened--he knew what it was: A Z-neutrino biological inversion catalyser. How...?

"Brilliant," Jack breathed. He knew exactly what Rose was carrying.

Before Davros could do anything, Rose was rushing toward him, aiming. 

"Don't!" The Doctor screamed, trying to rush forward but blocked by the holding cell, which flared a hot blue at his touch. _Rose, oh Rose, how can you be so brilliant and so stupid at the same time?_

Davros raised his hand and shot a bolt of blue decellularization energy into the center of Rose's chest, making her drop the catalyser bonelessly. She hit the floor, dropping like a sack of stones from the force of the blast.

And then a sound: Davros began to laugh. Dalek Caan remained strangely silent behind him, his one eye wide and attentive.

"Stand witness, Time Lord. Stand witness, humans. Your strategies have failed--your weapons are useless."

On screen the planets were lining up for the detonation of the reality bomb.

"And...oh, the end of the universe is come," Davros added in his oddly casual way.

In his holding cell the Doctor stood frozen, staring at Rose, his mouth slightly open, the light going out in his eyes. Donna was watching him from her neighboring cell, crying quietly, but with a furious look on her face. She swiped at her tears like they were offensive.

They listened as one of the Daleks counted down. "Nine...eight...seven...."

Rose stirred. The Doctor jolted as if from sleep, his breath catching. 

She turned onto her side, her blonde hair falling across her face in a curtain, obscuring her features. She looked up, right at Davros, and reached out with her left hand. She aimed it in the direction of the control panel and something rolled across the room like a ripple of heat wavering above a fire; there was a visual bending of the light and air, and then a pop loud enough to hurt their eardrums. The electronics in the control panel hissed unhappily, quick black ribbons of steam bursting through the cracked casing. The smell of burning plastic and fried wires filled the air. The suspended virtual monitor powered down, abruptly winking out of existence, and an alarm rang through the vault.

A huge smile curled across the Doctor's face, bright and triumphant.

Rose stood, her eyes radiating light. 

"System in shutdown!" announced a Dalek. From somewhere else a cry of "Detonation negative!" quickly followed.

"Explain! Explain! Explain!" Dalek Supreme looked like he might go off like a teakettle.

Davros motored toward Rose. "You'll suffer for this." 

Rose just looked at him. 

Suddenly, Davros turned and fired a bolt of blue lightning into the Doctor's holding cell. The Doctor fell back, for a moment hitting the back of the cell and then landing on the floor as the jail disintegrated. Another blast quickly followed, and the Doctor was still.

Rose screamed, a deafening, inhuman noise full of light and music and impossible frequencies. Everyone in the room crouched and covered their ears, except for Davros, who was staring at her with his mouth hanging open. He didn't have much time to register what was in store for him before Rose waved her hand in front of him and he disappeared like a handful of ash thrown into the wind. 

The Daleks had seen this before.

"Retreat!" Dalek Supreme commanded, and the Daleks began to flee. 

Rose closed her eyes and turned her focus inward for a moment and there was an enormous rumbling that shook everyone but her to the floor. The Daleks had disappeared like the cowards they were.

"What's happening?" Donna cried. 

Jack scrambled across the floor to the Doctor and took his head, cradling it, a stricken expression on his face. 

Donna watched Jack for a long, pregnant moment, mouth moving soundlessly. "Is he--?"

Jack nodded. Somewhere in the background Martha sobbed loudly, then clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide and wet.

***

Slow it down:

Rose let the energy fan out where it wanted and it bled into the universe, pushing the celestial bodies apart. Everything shook as the planets reversed their new natural order, released each other from gravitational pull, began their impossible and violent journeys back to their native galaxies.

As everything shook and tumbled and her friends fell and cried out and clutched each other in grief and shock, something powerful struck Rose's body, something soft and ghostly and insistent, a brightness sparkling through her head like fireworks, and she clutched her head, crying out at the strangeness of it. 

_"You do know that I'm in love with you, Rose Tyler?"_

_His lips catching hers in a soft kiss._

_The Doctor sliding into her in his bed, whispering, "Shhh."_

_The look on his face at Canary Wharf as she'd lost her grip on the lever, how he'd screamed and reached desperately for her before Pete materialized and caught her._

_His face in the shower. "Why now?" She'd asked, and despair had flickered behind his eyes._

_"It was the pit, Rose...I told you. I thought I'd never come back."_

_The way he'd sworn and turned away from her, trembling, when she refused to accept his answer._

_"I will tell you later, Rose, for now just accept that it isn't important and for fuck's sake_ love me. _"_

_The lovemaking that followed._

Rose shook where she stood, gasping, so bowled over by emotion she couldn't even cry. She opened her eyes and gazed numbly at the Doctor's prostrate form, at his head cradled in Jack's lap, feeling her head swirl with madness. He wasn't dead. She couldn't accept that. A feeling of nausea swept low through her stomach and black spots danced across her vision in sharp contrast to the sparkling light still flickering in the back of her mind. 

_"Good hand?"_

_"Excellent hand. Handiest hand there ever was."_

_The determined look on his face as he'd pulled her from the party. "I won't be separated from you."_

_"By a few chairs? ...Doctor?"_

_"No, not even by a few chairs, not for a second."_

_His beautiful face above hers, soft brown eyes taking in her face, the tip of his thumb skating delicately across her temple as he murmured, "I feel you. Like nothing I've ever felt."_

The memories filled her mind like a sudden rush of cold water, and Rose stood rigid through it. The timelines, oh god, he'd done this--somehow--how? But she wasn't allowed to remember it before. She remembered now only because...because she could, and because--she needed it.

He hadn't explained then because he hadn't wanted her to know it would be their only time together.

_No._

The Doctor lying still, not breathing, not moving, a smear of blood at the corner of his mouth and another at his temple from the force of striking the floor. Jack's face hovering over him, pale, his eyes wide and lost. She watched Jack press two red, slippery fingers into the side of the Doctor's neck again, double checking for a pulse that wasn't there.

***

Rose drew nearer and stood over them. "Go."

Jack said nothing, didn't even look up at her. Gently he laid the Doctor's head back down on the floor and backed away slowly, eyes never leaving the Doctor's face. He was in shock.

Rose got down on her hands and knees and leaned close as though to look into the Doctor's eyes. There was no movement beneath his lids. "No you don't," she said softly. "I came too far." She raised a hand and caressed his cheek softly, turning his face toward her more. Her eyes swirled with unearthly light. "I brought something for you." She leaned in close to him and placed her lips on his with a delicate, warm kiss. She parted her lips and his parted slightly with them. She breathed into him, felt his chest rise, saw--in her mind--his hearts start, the blood flushing through them. She willed it to happen. He'd kissed her once, in his last body, to take something away--and now she gave something back to him.

He sucked in a horrible, wheezy breath, choking, and everyone but Rose let out a shout of triumph from behind them. 

The Doctor opened his eyes and struggled to focus on something. "What...?"

Rose's eyes dimmed. She gazed down at him tenderly, starting to tremble now as everything really sank in. "Doctor? You all right?" Her voice wavered.

He coughed, rolling weakly onto his side, and looked up at her with his brow furrowed. His eyes betrayed his confusion, and something else--something that looked like an accusation. He didn't even try to speak, just breathed in deeply, eyes leaving her as he turned to cough violently into the crook of his left arm. 

Rose raised her hand as if to touch him, but simply ghosted the air close to him, using all her will not to just grab him. She withdrew her hand, feeling her face warm up with unshed tears, her nose growing stuffy. She exhaled painfully, closed her eyes.

***

No one could stop asking him if he was okay, but he was strangely silent, waving them off with one hand, not making eye contact. Rose had a horrible, sick feeling in her stomach--all their time apart, and he was as cold as ice.

Once they'd all boarded the TARDIS per the Doctor's instructions, and he had taken them into the vortex, she watched him as he ran his hands over his face and through his hair. The blood on his lip and at his temple disappeared, and he gazed at his hands for a long moment. He didn't seem aware that she was watching him, and no one else noticed his actions. They were all chatting quietly around the console, still digesting what had happened, still piecing it together. Jack's eyes met hers briefly and flicked away almost immediately, and she knew she was a topic of conversation. She pursed her lips together, perplexed.

She slowly approached the Doctor. "You all right?" she asked softly, leaning to get a better look at his face.

He met her eyes and hesitated only a second before nodding resolutely and smiling a tight little smile.

She wanted to throw herself at him and hold him tightly, but she could feel the barrier between them; it was in his demeanor, almost palpable.

"I...died," he said flatly. He didn't wear any particular expression.

Rose felt tears prick at her eyes. She sniffled and kept her hands clasped tight behind her back, resisting her impulse to comfort him physically, to seek her own comfort. "Yeah," she whispered airlessly, her voice almost giving out.

He glanced up at her quickly through his lashes, then away again, raising one hand to his tie. He loosened it and breathed out heavily. "Never done that before. Not...not really."

Rose wasn't sure what to say. "Are you really all right?"

He shrugged one shoulder, sniffed. "Yeah. M'always all right," he said evenly. He walked away from her to join the others at the console, but she darted after him and grabbed his hand. She wasn't exactly subtle; the others fell silent and watched as she pulled him away and into the kitchen.

Once they had entered, Rose whirled around and shut the door, pressing her back against it. "Have I done something? Please talk to me. Please, I can't take it."

The Doctor tucked his hands into his pockets and slid backward onto a stool by the center island, eyes never leaving her face. He looked very tired. She wasn't used to that. Wordlessly, he shook his head.

"Then why're you acting so strange?"

He barked out a laugh and rolled his eyes, then ran his hands over his face again and huffed out a sigh through them. "Rose...I just regenerated."

"What?"

"It's...it's not exactly an easy process to go through."

"But...but you're still you."

"Funny, 'cause frankly I have few memories of who that is, right now," he said, and everything socked home for her, hitting her in the gut.

The Doctor turned away from her and leaned one elbow against the island, tucking his lips against his palm.

"When you became...this you...you were a little fuzzy yeah, I remember that now," Rose murmured, talking just to talk, to keep some connection with him.

"Feel more than a bit fuzzy," he mumbled, his muffled voice hardly intelligible. 

"What's the last thing you remember?" she prodded.

"I...." he shook his head, gaze unfocused and fixed on some unclear point, but certainly not on her. "Bits." He stroked his chin, mouth opening wide as though he was stretching out his jaw. "For a second I didn't know who you were."

Rose blinked, and several tears tracked down her cheeks. She approached him slowly and went around the island to try to meet his eyes. He didn't lift his chin from his palm, but his eyes met hers as she settled into a stool across from him. She reached out and touched his arm, grabbing the crook of his elbow. 

He glanced down at her hand, stared at it emotionlessly a moment, then returned his gaze to hers. "What are you?"

"Wh...what?"

One of his eyebrows raised almost infinitesimally, and he just kept looking at her that way, as though he didn't know her, hadn't run across unfathomable worlds with her, hadn't seen her laugh so hard at films that she almost wet herself, hadn't once swiped a dollop of errant jam from her chin and licked it from his finger, meeting her eyes so guiltily that for a moment she'd dared to think he might be purposefully breaking one of his unspoken rules.

"I'm not a what," she said flatly. "I'm Rose. I'm human."

He shook his head, then squeezed his eyes shut, brow furrowing. "I'd ask questions...I'd ask the right questions...but I don't remember what to ask."

"Do you want some...some sleep? Some tea?" 

He turned away without looking at her again and pressed his palm against the side of the island, sliding off his chair and heading for the door. "Have to get everyone home. Think I remember how to do that."

*****

_I am sooo sorry it took so long for me to post this! It's hard to find time to write around work. But I will finish this story. Lesson learned, though--in future any stories I write, after this series, will be completed before I begin posting them up. Thanks for sticking with me!_

_Oh, by the way...this story totally took a different direction than I had originally planned. You all came THIS CLOSE to losing your Doctor! ;)_


	9. Separate Ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lines are drawn in the sand.

_Stand there and look into my eyes_  
_And tell me that all we had were lies_  
_Show me that to you it don't count_  
_And I'll stay here if you prefer_  
_Yes I'll leave you without a word_  
_Without a word_

\--Without a Word, Birdy

***

The Doctor emerged from the kitchen and joined his friends around the console. He was still unusually quiet, watching them and listening to their conversations, but not saying anything. The others were livening up a bit as they celebrated the fact that they were all still alive and that Davros was gone.

After a time Rose joined them as well, eyes a little pink. 

"Well," Jack said, pushing himself back from the console, "since the universe is safe and all, I'd say it's time for a drink. Doctor? Join me in the kitchen? I don't know where you keep the wine in this ship. And don't tell me you don't have any--I seem to recall the three of us sharing a very nice Katztachen once upon a time," he said, using one finger to indicate the Doctor, Rose, and himself.

The Doctor sighed; apparently he was going to spend the rest of this regeneration--if it lasted more than half an hour this time--in his kitchen.

The door closed behind them and this time the Doctor remained standing, watching Jack as he went from cupboard to cupboard searching for wine and glasses. Jack began to assemble what he needed on the island. "Talk to me," he said, shooting the Doctor a serious look.

"About what, Jack."

"HA," Jack said, a bit more than sarcastically. "I know what you just went through. I can't die, remember? I'm the only person here who's qualified to talk to you right now."

The Doctor ran a hand through his hair, then crossed his arms over his chest.

Jack stared at him as he worked a corkscrew into the bottle of wine. 

Finally, the Doctor met his eyes. Neither said anything, but a thousand emotions flickered across the Doctor's face. Jack wasn't entirely certain what all of them were, or what they meant, but the predominant one seemed to be fear. Fear and realization.

Finally, the Doctor opened his mouth as though he'd speak--but then abruptly locked down again, mouth closing, eyes slipping shut. But his mask had come askew. He was vulnerable after a regeneration. Jack knew this for what it was.

"Why are you angry at her? Do you know what she just did?"

The Doctor remained silent. He didn't move.

"Is that _why_ you're angry? Doc?"

"I was...." The Doctor trembled visibly for a moment.

"Yeah," Jack said.

"And there was...there was...." The Doctor opened his eyes and gestured with both hands in front of him, staring into his empty palms.

"Yeah," Jack said again. He poured two glasses and walked over to hand one to his friend. When the Doctor took it, Jack clapped a hand onto his shoulder and peered at him seriously. 

The Doctor finally met his eyes, raised his glass, and downed it.

Jack took a swallow as well, not releasing the Doctor's shoulder. He squeezed gently.

The Doctor looked a little uncomfortable, but made no move to push Jack away. "There's a lot I don't remember. I regenerated."

Jack nodded slowly. "All right. Let's see if I can help. You told me once that Rose brought me back to life, but that she couldn't control it. That she gave me too much. Is that what just happened to you back there? Was that the Bad Wolf?"

"I...yes. No. I don't know." The Doctor took a shaky breath, eyes full of a fear he was currently too raw to keep hidden. "I don't remember."

"All right," Jack said soothingly. "That's all right." He smiled. "More wine."

The Doctor gave a weak little half smile. "We going to finish the bottle?"

"If we have to. We've got time, right?"

The Doctor rolled his eyes, but nodded, still smiling faintly. This time when Jack walked back to the island, he followed and leaned his elbows on the white marble. "How do you bear it?"

Jack poured the Doctor another glass, and gave himself a little splash as well. He slid the Doctor's glass to him, and watched the other man thoughtfully spin the stem between long fingers. The red liquid sloshed gently and the Doctor stared into it.

"I don't have a choice," Jack answered. "Honestly, I think you've got it a lot tougher."

The Doctor's brow furrowed. "How so?"

"Well, I die and I come back as me. You're never quite the same. Except, I'm confused. Are you the same, right now? I mean, you look the same."

"I'm not sure yet. Too much is missing. Regenerating twice into the same body...it's...it's never happened before, I don't think."

Jack sighed. "Look, whatever else you _don't_ know, I can at least help you with one thing: it doesn't matter how long you live, or what you do. The universe will never owe you anything. You've just got to take it. And right now you've got Rose back. Don't blow it."

The Doctor was still staring into his glass, but his eyes darkened.

"I'm serious, Doctor. Don't be a fool."

"Let's just get you home, Jack."

Jack grit his teeth, giving the other man a look he missed because he was so busy not making eye contact. He wanted to say something sharp about how no matter how many times the Doctor regenerated he'd apparently always hold onto the skill of running away, but he couldn't do that to him--not right now. It would be a low blow. He closed his eyes and softened his expression, then opened them and finished his wine. "You know I'm here for you if you need me," he said quietly. And he meant it. Apparently the Doctor would also always have the ability to make his entire chest hurt with sympathy. Sympathy and love.

The Doctor sipped again from his glass. "I know."

***

Jack handed a glass to everyone in the console room, taking advantage of the fact that Rose stood a bit apart from the rest of the group to get a moment alone with her. She held her glass as he filled it. He was about to stop pouring, but then winked at her and topped it off.

Her lips trembled into a sincere smile despite her best efforts.

"Honey, I don't wanna say it, but we all saw you back there. You weren't you. What happened?"

Rose sipped at her wine and quietly filled him in on what had taken place while she was trapped in the TARDIS. She was able to tell him what she'd concluded by now, which was that the Doctor's hand had reactivated whatever Bad Wolf energy had been hiding out in her subconscious all this time. 

"Wow," Jack said when she was finished. "That's...well. And you brought him back. Is that what you did to me?" He knew the answer, of course...the Doctor had already told him. It was another thing entirely to see it in action, though.

Rose nodded. Jack filled her glass again, took a look at the bottle, and raised it to swallow the last mouthful. Then he smiled.

"Wait...you mean you kissed me, and I was dead for it?"

She hit his arm gently. "No, Jack, I didn't kiss you."

"Damn."

"I'm sorry...did you want me to kiss you while you were dead?"

"Dead, alive...I'll take what I can get."

"Oh goodness." Rose ran a hand over her face. "I don't even know how I can be laughing right now."

"Well, that's all right then, 'cause you aren't."

Rose glanced over at the Doctor, watching him as he spoke with Jackie. She couldn't imagine what they were saying to each other.

"You want to make him jealous?" Jack asked, smiling wickedly.

"Jack, behave yourself, seriously. You have no boundaries."

"Hey, someone has to lighten the mood around here."

Rose threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. "I'm so glad you're here. No one else is as horribly inappropriate as you."

Jack picked her up off the ground and squeezed her. He turned with her in his arms and glanced over at the Doctor, who, if he noticed them, was doing an excellent job of not showing it.

Rose sighed as he set her down. "I wish we had more time to talk. I have so much I want to tell you." She hadn't yet told him what she'd remembered on the Crucible.

"You can call me, okay?" Jack took her phone from her and put his Torchwood number in. "The Doctor has my number, but he's spent a long time pretending he doesn't, so I won't make you ask him."

"Thanks," Rose said, taking her phone back and tucking it into the pocket of her jacket. She furrowed her brow, wondering how he figured she'd be able to get in touch with him from the parallel universe.

"Just one more question for now," Jack said. "That Bad Wolf energy...is it gone now? Completely?"

Rose chewed her bottom lip. "Question of the century, Jack. I just don't know. I thought it was gone the first time."

Jack pinched her chin softly between his thumb and forefinger, his eyes warm. "Well, you've never been ordinary. It's just more of the same, isn't it?"

She raised her hand to his and squeezed it. He relaxed and their fingers intertwined. She swung their clasped hands gently between them for a moment before giving him a knowing smile. "Tell that to him," she said with a little nod of her head in the Doctor's direction.

Jack didn't have the heart to tell her he'd already tried.

***

The Doctor dropped Sarah Jane off first, then went to reset the coordinates. As he did so, Donna's hand landed on top of his. "Don't send Rose home," she said quietly.

The Doctor's jaw tightened. "Why not?"

Donna kicked him hard in the ankle without any warning and his mouth fell open, his breath temporarily out of order until his respiratory bypass asserted itself. _"Ow!"_ He glared at her, mouth open in an O of pain.

"Don't be a stupid git!" Donna chastised him, stabbing a finger at him, leaning toward him as if into a high wind. "Are you serious? All that time I watched you _miserable_ because she was gone, all those stories you told me, and you're going to get rid of her?" She wound up and kicked him again, this time in the other ankle, and he hopped away from the console on one leg, hands massaging the newly offended bit. 

Jackie watched them, one eyebrow raised, but with a satisfied expression on her face. "'Bout time someone did that," she said. Mickey was smirking, obviously in agreement. 

The Doctor collapsed into a slouch on the jump seat. He slowly propped himself up straight, wincing a bit, legs stiff in front of him. 

"Your other friends might be the type who'll coddle you and act like it's okay for you to bugger around because you just died, but not me, mister!" Donna said hotly. "If you take today off you'll lose everything, and you're too bloody stupid to notice!"

The Doctor leaned forward, eyes watering.

"Are--" Donna looked at him, alarmed, feeling sorry now. "Are you--I'm sorry?"

He stood and left the console room abruptly.

***

No one was certain what to do once he left. Since they hadn't entered the vortex yet, Jack went and opened the door to let some fresh air in. A warm breeze swept through the room. The distant voices of pedestrians and the shouts of children at play made each of the TARDIS' passengers feel surreal in different ways.

Donna leaned on the console, chewing her lip, tapping her nails, obviously mentally kicking herself.

"Oh don't feel bad," Jackie soothed. "You know how long I've watched that one over there depressed out of her head?" She nodded toward Rose. "I've wanted to kick him myself more than a time or two. And not in the ankle!"

Donna nodded, but she didn't look comforted. "Yeah, no, I hear you. I guess now just wasn't the time for that, maybe."

"Well, when is the time?" Jackie asked angrily. "After he's dropped you off an' you never see him again?"

Donna shook her head.

"No? Well, that's what he does!"

"It sure is," Mickey mumbled.

"Mum, it's okay," Rose said, coming over to them. "This has been a really hard day for all of us." She looked at Donna. "I don't know what that was all about, but let's just all agree to let the Doctor do what he's got to do, right?"

"You're gonna just let him leave you again?" Jackie was incredulous.

"I'll talk to him, Mum, but at the end of the day I can't make him do anythin'. And I'm not gonna make him feel like I hate him for it if that's what he decides to do."

Jackie let out an offended huff and folded her arms over her chest, but said nothing.

"She's right," Donna said. "None of us here are 900-year-old Time Lords. We can't put ourselves in his place."

"Thanks," the Doctor mumbled from behind them, gently pushing his way through them to the console. 

No one said anything more. Jack, who was leaning in the open doorway and watching the Doctor with a unsettled mix of exasperation and sorrow on his face, finally straightened to pull the door closed. They each took a spot around the console. 

The Doctor calmly set the new coordinates.

***

Jack and Martha were the next to be dropped off, and as he said goodbye to them the Doctor disabled Jack's teleport device. Jack bore this without complaint, surprisingly. Mickey announced his intention to join them; his gran was dead in the parallel world now, so he had nothing to go back for. Before parting, Mickey gave the Doctor a curt little salute and then spun on his heel. The Doctor slid his hands into his pockets and watched him walk away.

Jack grabbed the Doctor by the shoulders, leaned in, and gave him a big kiss on the cheek. "You know where I am. I hope you might actually come looking for me, this time."

The Doctor nodded noncommittally. 

Martha gave him a bittersweet, lopsided smile, and looped her arms around his neck. He hugged her back, a sincere hug--he even patted her back a few times. "S'been nice, Doctor," she said. "Saving the world with you. Let's do it again some time, right?"

"Sure. Martha?"

"Yeah?"

He wrinkled his nose as she pulled back. "Get rid of that Osterhagen key, all right?"

"Of course." She smiled uncertainly, then followed Jack's lead and pecked him on the cheek. She turned and took Jack's elbow and they headed off after Mickey together.

"Wait up, Beef Cake!" Jack called.

The Doctor shook his head. Just as he was about to head back inside the TARDIS, Donna squeezed out past him.

"I'll get home from here," she said. 

"What? No, I'll take you."

"It's okay, Doctor. I could use some air and maybe a slower ride home. Clear my head, you know?"

"I...I guess," he said, looking at her oddly. She suddenly realized what the look was; he wasn't ready to say goodbye to her just yet. He hadn't been planning on it. And maybe to some degree he felt that he needed that buffer between himself and Rose. All the more reason for her to go--he had to realize that once Rose was gone he was really going to be alone. Again.

"You know where I am if you need to look me up," Donna said, nodding. "But don't expect me to just drop everything and come running. There are plenty of people who'll do that for you, but not me. I'm not just going to sit around and wait."

He grinned. "No, you never would."

"Is this where we--?" Donna made an awkward motion with her arms.

The Doctor swept her close and hugged her hard. "Donna Noble, you may just be the best mate I've ever had."

"Mmm." She smiled over his shoulder. "Yeah, well. I still don't regret kicking you in the ankle."

" _Both_ ankles."

"I'd do it again, I would."

"I don't doubt it." He released her and she smiled at him fondly, then turned to walk away. He watched her for a long moment, his brief smile fading, then ducked back into the TARDIS.

Only Jackie and Rose were left now. The Doctor faced them for a long, silent moment. They both looked pale and unhappy.

"Right," Jackie said. "I'm the odd wheel, then. Guess I'll go to the kitchen so you don't have to pretend to need more wine. I could use some, though. Anyone want to settle for a cuppa?"

"No, Mum," Rose said. "That's all right. You go have one."

"Yeah, well." Jackie cast a sharp look back at the Doctor as she shuffled off toward the kitchen. "You know where I am if you need me, Rose."

The Doctor sighed and looked away, rocking on his feet. 

The kitchen door closed.

The Doctor's eyes shifted to Rose's face, and then he moved swiftly to the console.

Rose bounced over to him, grabbing his hand quickly to stop him. "Don't."

He sighed again. "I've got to take you home." He pulled his hand away from hers.

"Doctor," Rose fumed, eyebrows raised, lips parting in a way that the Doctor felt he remembered. It was a look she only got when she had been pushed to her limit. He couldn't remember when he'd seen it last, but he knew he'd never enjoyed this expression. "After all we've been through, how many times have I got to say it? I'm not leavin' you. Especially now, when I just lost you. Again. Once by separation and then by death. The next time I leave you it will be because I'm dead myself."

The Doctor swallowed, looking sick.

"Will you at least look at me when I'm talking to you? At least have the decency to look at me if you're gonna to do this to me."

Slowly, reluctantly, he looked at her. "As long as you're with me, you're not safe."

"Did I ever give you the impression that I wanted to be safe?"

" _I_ wanted you safe. You should have stayed away after I teleported you at Canary Wharf."

"So you remember that."

"Yeah, I do."

"Then you know how stubborn I am. You can send me back, but I'll just use Torchwood to find you again."

He turned so he was resting against the console, arms folded, ankles crossed, and regarded her. "What do you need, Rose?"

Her eyes flickered over his face. "Need?"

"To let go of this." He pointed his chin out with a little nod to indicate the TARDIS. "For us to say goodbye."

She frowned, feeling her stomach drop as she took in the hard look on his face. She was quiet for a minute and swallowed several times, trying to gain control over her emotions. By the time she felt she could speak she had her answer, but she knew that after she gave it she would truly be alone for the first time since she'd met him. Not even at Bad Wolf Bay had she been this alone, because she'd always felt they'd find each other somehow. And now here they were. 

She looked at him as levelly as she could as she told him what it would take. "Closure."

"Fine," he said easily.

Her brow furrowed. "F-fine what?"

"Stay, then," he said, but his tone was angry. "Temporarily. Stay."

"...Yeah?"

"But Jackie's going home." 

Jackie barged out of the kitchen. "Oh, no you don't! You're not sending me back to that parallel world for good!"

"Well, you aren't staying here," the Doctor sniped irritably. 

Jackie marched up to him and slapped the back of his head.

"Hey!"

"No, hey _you_ , mister. Don't talk to me like that--not after what my daughter's done for you, and how much she's suffered! Now here's what's gonna happen. We're going to Torchwood and finding a way to get hold of Pete, and he's moving back here with me. You're gonna pick up him and Tony--and all our luggage--and move us. Just drop us back at Torchwood and we'll make our way from there. But I'm not staying in some parallel universe cut off from my daughter just because she's daft enough to want to stay with you."

The Doctor's shoulders slumped. Fighting was futile and he knew it. "Yeah, fine. Let's go then."

***

By the time everything was said and done it was 1am (with everything that had just happened the rift between the worlds was open and it wasn't difficult to get a message to Pete's world), and Rose and the Doctor stumbled into the TARDIS, exhausted. He'd hardly said five words the entire time, and Rose was so burnt out that the last thing she wanted to do was press him for conversation. It had been difficult enough saying goodbye to her mother, telling her she'd see her soon enough while the Doctor looked on without the slightest indication that her obvious heartbreak was affecting him.

Rose blew through the console room without pause, not checking to see whether the Doctor stayed behind or headed off to his own quarters.

She found her door quickly, the TARDIS no doubt having guided her to it. Rose went in and looked around, relieved and comforted to find that everything was just as she'd left it. She began undressing, letting her clothing fall to the floor piece by piece as she headed to the en suite, trying hard not to think about the day's events and what they meant or what could possibly come next. She showered (her shampoo was still right where it had been, with the same amount left in the bottle), trying hard the entire time not to remember showering with the Doctor. She got out and toweled her hair dry. She found a pair of pyjamas and pulled them on, and was about to fall into bed when she noticed something: there was a picture of her with the Doctor next to her pillow. She hadn't left it there, she knew that. She hadn't even seen the picture before, actually, though she remembered having it taken.

She sat on the bed, folding her left leg under her, and gingerly picked the picture up, biting her lip as tears sprang to her eyes. They looked so happy. They were at some alien water park, both in swimwear (he had black trunks and she had a royal blue bikini), both soaking wet and laughing about who knew what. Absolutely nothing, probably. They'd had a passing tourist take the photo for them, like any couple might do. The Doctor had his arm slung around her and was looking at her rather than the camera, his face split in a wide grin. 

He'd been here, then. How many times?

She reached out and touched her pillow, then lay back onto it, still holding the picture. She nuzzled her face into the pillow and breathed in. She could smell him. She let the tears leak from her eyes and gave into the memories that had flooded her mind earlier that day. The way he'd danced with her, touched her. He'd told her he loved her.

Did he not remember? ...What if he did? What if, during his regeneration, his feelings for her had changed and he didn't want her around anymore? What if she'd angered him by bringing him back, or by chasing the Daleks off before he got a chance to deal with them? Who knew what they were out there doing right this moment.

She thought of how sad the Doctor must have been during their forbidden day, going back for her and knowing it had never been, could never really be.

Now she knew how he'd felt.

***

The Doctor cried out and sat up in bed, breathing heavily. It took him a long moment to realize where he was and sort fact from fiction in his thoughts. Images from the previous day flipped quickly through his mind like someone was performing a riffle shuffle on a deck of cards. Riffle shuffle. Once, that thought would have made him smile. Now he just rolled his eyes at himself. Even his self-irritation, however, was a relief from his confusion.

The light was on by his en suite as usual, casting a soft glow around the room. He had spectacular night vision, but he still hated waking up in the dark. He was happy he was currently in his ship and not in some unfamiliar room on some planet. Too many times he'd had nightmares in those situations and had woken up thinking he was any number of places. Even once he was awake enough to know where he really was, he couldn't stop the memories from flooding in. He'd been too many places, seen too many things. Well. That was the life of a time traveler. It couldn't all be interesting life forms and saving the day and goofing around and eating jelly babies. Those were just the things he did to lighten the rest of the load, keep a balance.

The balance had shifted considerably since Canary Wharf though hadn't it.

Ugh. He rubbed his tired face with both hands. Daleks. 

He swung his legs out of bed and got up to use the loo. He urinated, flushed, and lingered nervously until he vomited. He sighed and brushed his teeth, a human habit he didn't normally need to perform but which he'd adopted when this vomiting thing became a habit. 

On his way back through his bedroom he thought of Rose, imagined her stretched out in her bed with one arm flung over her eyes in that way she did. For a moment he wasn't certain if he was getting something mixed up in his mind, like thinking he had woken up in the wrong place. He was tempted to go check--but then remembered his dream.

In the beginning he'd been making love to her, but the overtone of the dream had been one of anger. He knew that wasn't his feeling in the dream itself, but rather his feeling as the dream took place. He used to have dreams like this frequently--minus the anger--back when she'd traveled with him, but he didn't want them now. It was useless. It was no longer sweet, or even bittersweet. He didn't want to do this again-- _wouldn't_ do this again. Rose had to go home. She had to understand she was nothing more to him than a companion, one of many, and that though their time together had been good, it was time for her to open her eyes and go back to the real world. That was the best place for her.

He felt a twisting sensation in his chest as the emotions behind this thought combined with his memories of the rest of his dream: at some point he'd been back in the vault, dying. He couldn't remember how he'd gotten there--couldn't even remember that now, awake--but he knew _why_ he was there. And then, in the dream, it all slipped away. Into blackness. There was...nothing. No old friends to greet him, no Time Lords, no Gallifrey, no warm cradle of happy thoughts. But it was peaceful. And that scared him. 

And then those inhuman eyes greeting him on his return. The Doctor shivered. He slipped on his dressing gown and headed to the kitchen for a cuppa, trying not to acknowledge Rose's room as he passed it. He began turning his head around the problem of her, of how to get her back home with her family where she belonged. He went about the comforting ritual of making tea, lost in thought, and began the once-pleasant routine of waiting for her to wake up.

***

Rose woke with a headache. She stretched and brought her fingertips to her cheeks to massage her jaw. She'd been grinding her teeth in her sleep; she did that sometimes. She couldn't remember her dreams, only that she'd felt tense and angry all night.

She paused in her rubbing and opened her eyes wider, realizing where she was. She struggled slowly into a sitting position and swept her eyes around her room, over her cluttered vanity and the open door of the en suite and her clothes from the day before scattered haphazardly across the floor. There were no artificial lights on and the room was dark and exuded a cold feeling. 

Knowing the Doctor was somewhere on the ship with her did nothing to alleviate the feeling. She sighed, blowing a puff of hair out of her face. She felt a slow pulling inside her chest, a sinking feeling as she remembered their agreement: closure. And how exactly would he provide that for her? Would he even meet her eye today?

Well, if this was the way it had to be, she had to be willing. She had to meet the challenge, make a clean break. Yeah. Like rehab, or something. She had to...wean herself off the Doctor.

She almost laughed. It sounded so silly.

She'd tried for so long to imagine her life without him, and had never quite been able to wrap her brain around it. Somehow, being here on the TARDIS...that made it real. Maybe because she couldn't hear him out in the console room singing loudly, as he did some mornings, and she couldn't smell any breakfast food cooking, and the TARDIS herself seemed to be humming softer than usual, almost unobtrusively, almost as if she were afraid to touch Rose too much. Even the ship felt it.

Well then. 

Rose pushed herself out of bed and went to the en suite to shower. She didn't really need one, but she needed something to help ease her into the day. She wasn't ready to just go out and face him. 

She didn't bother to shut the door behind her. It didn't matter; there was no way the Doctor was going to come bounding in the way he used to, excited and gesturing and making sound effects to demonstrate to her what was going to happen that day, tilting his head side to side every time she poked at him with one of their silly inside jokes. He used to be so light, so carefree and irresistible, so child-like. Whoever he'd been since she'd found him again...she didn't know this person. She didn't even know his eyes. Even when he'd regenerated from her first Doctor--the one with the Northern accent and blue eyes--into her brown-suited, floppy-haired puppydog of a Doctor, she'd eventually been able to recognize something there, something in his demeanor, particularly in the way he looked at her. No more of that, now. Because, she thought angrily, she'd found her way back to him and done what she had to do to save the day-- _he'd_ done hard things to save the day before, awful things, even--and now he wanted nothing to do with her. Bloody hypocrite.

She wouldn't be sad. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

Her gaze drifted over her assorted bath products. She knew exactly what she could use to make him nostalgic--scent is the strongest trigger of memory, after all, though maybe not for Time Lords, who knew--but she wasn't going to play any games. Playing games with him would only mean playing games with herself. She grabbed the most basic bar of soap she had and settled on a shampoo she had never felt was one of his favorites.

God, every decision was about him. When was the last time that hadn't been true in her life? Hmm. He had his "suit of armor," so to speak...all those layers. Coat, suit jacket, tie, oxford, etc etc etc. So formal all the time, such a change from his leather jacket, as if he'd needed to dress himself up to face her the way a soldier would for battle. All official and business-like. She would create her own uniform. It would serve to remind her of why she was still here.

She toweled off and went to her closet to see what she could find. She pressed her top lip with her tongue, thinking, and finally pulled out a vest, a short-sleeved shirt, a hoodie, and jeans. She even found some tall socks. She put everything on and even slid her hands up inside the cuffs of the hoodie; the arms were long anyway. She looked in her mirror and nodded. All right. She put on a pair of boots to finish it all off.

Hair. What could she do with her hair? She thought about doing nothing, but that would look too...depressed, like she didn't even have the heart to run a brush through. But then, she didn't want to look too styled either. After debating for a moment she ran her fingers through, making it look tended-to but casual. Fine. No makeup, either. Chapstick, just basic, an unflavored one.

She licked her lips, lifted her chin, and promised herself that no matter how he acted she would keep her shit together. He was the Doctor, after all. Not _her_ Doctor anymore, just _the_ Doctor. Known across time and space. Defender of everyone, lover of no one. Ha.... But seriously, no one had ever been able to get under her skin like he could. She would have her work cut out for her.

*****

_This chapter was a bit slow I guess, but things are gonna pick up in the next one. Oh, and if you aren't familiar with the song I quoted in the beginning, I'd recommend that you check it out. :) Thanks so much for reading!_


	10. Under The Microscope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I have traveled," he said, and held his hands out, gesturing as if he could make her see, "for so long. Doing this. _When will it be enough?!?"_

_If I told you things I did before, told you how I used to be_  
_Would you go along with someone like me?_  
_If you knew my story word for word, had all of my history_  
_Would you go along with someone like me?_

\--Young Folks, Peter Bjorn and John

 

_So I'll begin not to love you_  
_Turn around, you'll see me runnin'_  
_I'll say I loved you years ago_  
_And tell myself you never loved me....No...._

_Time casts its spell on you...but you won't forget me_  
_(I was such a fool)_  
_I know I could've loved you, but you would not let me_  
_(Give me one more chance)_  
_I'll follow you down 'til the sound of my voice will haunt you_  
_(Haunt you)_  
_You'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you_

\--Silver Springs, Fleetwood Mac

***

Rose took a deep breath before entering the kitchen. She tried to enter quietly, but her sleeved hand slipped noisily on the doorknob and he glanced sideways at her from where he sat at the island. He was wearing a blue dressing gown over his plaid pyjama bottoms and a plain white t-shirt. He had a book in one hand and a cup of tea by the other.

Rose stopped where she was for a moment, timidly, looking him over. The Doctor always looked nice in his suit, but it was funny...since he was always so dressed up she had always found him sexiest like _this_ \--casual, rumpled. She hardened her resolve. In the past if she'd found him like this she would have walked past him and ruffled her hand in his hair on her way to make tea, fighting the urge to slide her arms around him from behind and bury her face in his neck, maybe pressing a kiss there if she could work up the courage, which of course she never would have....

She'd been frozen awkwardly in place for a little too long now. The Doctor had returned his eyes to his book, but he cleared his throat softly as if prompting her to move and stop staring.

She shuffled quickly across the kitchen in her UGGS and went to the teapot. She poured herself a cup and chose a black tea. She spent an inordinate amount of time first dunking the bag in the hot water and then crushing it against the side of the cup with a spoon. She felt a little like she couldn't breathe.

When she felt that she couldn't delay it anymore she walked around the island to take a seat across from him, and finally he really looked at her. She could see his eyes were guarded.

"Morning," she said softly.

"Morning," he said, just as softly.

Rose tried to get over how strange it was to finally be sitting here with the Doctor in the TARDIS kitchen again. She half expected that she'd wake up any moment and realize that something awful had happened at Torchwood and she'd been knocked unconscious and this was all some dream caused by a brain parasite. 

She wet her lips with her tongue and turned her gaze down into her cup. The time they'd spent staring at each other just then hadn't been exactly uncomfortable, but it _was_ strange. It was a new dynamic, certainly. She just wished she understood what it was.

"Would you like some breakfast?" the Doctor asked.

Rose felt her chest constrict. How on earth was she ever going to last if she couldn't handle a breakfast offer?

"Uhm, yeah, I guess," she mumbled. 

The Doctor tented his book on the counter top and got up to fix something, turning his back to her as he moved from cupboard to cupboard.

"How've you been, then?" Rose asked hesitantly. Was she allowed to ask questions? Was it okay? They couldn't very well do this without _talking_ to each other, could they?

The Doctor stared into a cupboard for a long moment, then pulled down a jar of jam. Raspberry, of course. Rose bit her tongue.

"Busy," he answered shortly.

Rose nodded even though he couldn't see her. She watched him take out a loaf of bread and cut a few slices for toast. Always homemade bread on board the TARDIS. She'd missed that. "Traveling? With Martha and Donna? Seemed really nice, those two. And smart."

"Yup," he said.

Rose pursed her lips and played with the cuffs of her hoodie.

"Torchwood, huh?" The Doctor asked, depressing the lever on the toaster.

"Yeah!" Rose said, a little too loudly. "Uh. For a while now, yeah." She cleared her throat, then realized she had her tea and grabbed it so eagerly she slopped some on the counter. She glanced at him almost guiltily and mopped up the tea with her sleeve before he noticed. "Well, I mean. You know. Told you at the beach, didn't I, so yeah, since then. S'going well," she added. "Better than working the shops."

"Good."

Rose drew little designs on the counter top with her finger. 

"You didn't want to go back, though," he said. 

"Uh...." What could she possibly say in response to that? "Not...not if I could be here, no." 

He faced her.

"I mean," she stuttered, "here like, back on Earth, like, my original Earth. With Mum and...regular things...I mean, there's no Daniel Craig over there. Or Colin Firth," she said, trying to make him laugh. She'd made him watch countless movies starring Colin Firth. Romances. He hated those.

The toast popped up and he turned to plate it. He handled the slices gingerly in that way she was so familiar with, using the very tips of his fingers and pulling back as soon as they were near the plate as though he'd touched fire. It probably did feel that way to him...he ran cool, after all. He spent a minute carefully spreading the jam.

"Eggs?"

"Er...if you don't mind, yeah. I could eat a horse, I think."

She waited for him to make some quip about how they actually did that on some planet, like ate standing up in a field with a knife and fork and everything, but he simply took the eggs from the refrigerator and then brought her plate of toast to her. He leaned over the island to push it to her, and her breath caught when he came close. It was the nearest he'd come to her since they'd hugged each other. She hated herself for not being able to take her eyes off him now. His remained studiously downcast. All too quickly he went back to the other side of the kitchen to crack the eggs into a bowl, and the air he'd disturbed hit her and washed his scent over her: a bit of cinnamon with some warm and spicy note underneath. 

Rose drank some tea and started tearing her toast into bite-sized chunks to keep her hands, which were desperate to fidget with something, busy. She chewed slowly and stared at his back, letting her eyes lose focus. He still moved so gracefully, just the way she remembered--like everything he did was choreographed. She wondered how she looked to him. Probably like an uncoordinated dunce. She would have burned the toast, for instance, and probably her finger too by touching the metal or something. And that was only the beginning. Those eggs? They would have gone into the bowl shell and all, and not because she'd meant to. And knowing him he would have quickly insisted that he liked his eggs better that way, shell and all, that that's how they always made them on Gallifrey and it reminded him of home, and he'd actually eat them like that and appear to like it. 

"Rose," he said impatiently.

Rose jolted back a bit and noticed there was a plate right under her nose. "Oh! Sorry...." She took the plate and set it down in front of her.

"I asked if you wanted bacon. I made some," he said. 

Rose just nodded, not looking at him again, suddenly feeling dangerously close to tears. _Come on,_ she told herself. _This is not how you planned things. You're weak. So much for keeping it together._

Yeah, she'd challenge the Sphinx not to fall in love with this man, though, and then cry when he inevitably shunned it. 

She drank more tea; her mum had taught her long ago that when you felt like you might cry, the best way to stave it off was to drink something. It loosened that knot in your throat. It worked, too.

A few pieces of bacon landed on her plate and the Doctor slid into his seat across from her. He began to eat and picked his book up again.

Seriously? How rude. 

Even that brought back a memory--rude and not ginger. He'd been flirty from the start, suggesting that she might find him sexy, winking at her when they were dealing with the Sycorax. She'd been horrified, worrying that she was completely transparent, because he was right. She'd been uncertain of him at the time and his whole "regeneration" business, but there was no denying the attraction.

Rose turned and put her feet up on the stool beside her, sitting sideways so she didn't have to face him while she ate.

"I have to examine you after this," the Doctor said at length.

"What? Why? How?"

He put his book down again and just looked at her thoughtfully, chewing on a bite of his toast, which was certainly cold by now. He'd never liked cold toast. "I have to examine you. Because of what happened yesterday. In the infirmary, with medical instruments," he answered quite descriptively.

"All right. Don't have to be snarky about it."

To her surprise he frowned and looked away, sticking his fork into his egg. "I'm sorry."

She debated telling him it was all right, but decided not to in the end, because it wasn't. They finished breakfast in silence.

***

It was even colder in the infirmary than Rose remembered. The Doctor had told her once that the TARDIS kept it that way on purpose to keep the medications and antidotes pure.

She hopped up onto the examination table, but he shook his head. "No. Strip."

"I'm sorry?"

"Take off your clothes, Rose, and put on a medical gown. I need to really examine you."

She considered asking just how far "really" went, but decided this would be easier for her if she just went with it. He tossed a green gown at her and she caught it. He turned his back to ready his instruments and she quickly undressed and slipped the gown on. She tied it tightly closed and got back up on the table. "Going to examine yourself, too?"

"Yeah," he said, squinting at whatever he was holding. He took a moment longer and then came over to her with a syringe. 

Rose paled. She'd never liked having her blood drawn. 

The Doctor stopped in front of her, his face neutral. "You absorbed the Time Vortex."

Rose furrowed her brow. "Uh, yeah, Doctor. Some time ago."

He just kept looking at her, and after a moment her features softened. "Oh," she said softly. "Yeah. Yeah, I did."

He nodded, as if becoming more certain, and moved to put a band around her arm, becoming entirely clinical, not lingering as he touched her. Rose held her left arm out and squeezed her eyes shut. 

"You still hate this?"

She nodded.

"Don't be afraid. Relax. It'll only sting for a second."

She held her breath as she felt him place the band and take her fist in his left hand. She tried to think of anything other than the blood being drawn and the fact that he was touching her. She wasn't certain which was worse. Something occurred to her and she cracked her left eye open to peek at him. "Good hand?"

His brow furrowed as he looked up at her. "What?"

She nodded at her balled fist.

"What are you on about?" He had no idea. He really didn't; he was regarding her as though she was a nutter. "Yeah, Rose, this arm'll do."

Rose just nodded and closed her eyes again.

She sucked in a little hiss when the needle pierced her skin, and right away she began to feel unwell. "Uugh," she moaned.

"Really, Rose, it's not very much blood." She didn't feel the needle withdraw, but she felt him pull the band off and press a cotton ball to the inside of her elbow. "Erm," he said. "You're a little green. Are you feeling ill?"

She nodded, not daring to talk, and after a moment she felt something cold on the back of her neck. She let out a breath of relief and focused on inhaling and exhaling slowly, finally cracking her eyes open and looking at him. And then she realized that the cold thing on the back of her neck was his hand. She felt her cheeks color slightly against her will. "Uh...I'm sorry. I know...I'm such a wuss about blood. Having it drawn, at least. Any other time it doesn't bother me."

The expression he was giving her wasn't quite as hard; if anything it was tinged with mild concern. It was such a relief to see anything other than disdain on his face that she felt like a pile of bricks had been lifted from her chest. "Is that better?" he asked quietly.

Rose nodded and focused her gaze on the white flooring. It was almost worse for him to look at her like that. 

The Doctor withdrew his hand and went back to the counter. He set up her blood in the centrifuge and paused to draw his own, tightening the band on his arm and making a fist, the muscles in his forearm popping out. He finished quickly and efficiently. Though she couldn't watch directly, Rose stole little glances, marveling over how easy it looked for him. Like most things did. ....Maybe too many things, come to think of it.

He placed his vial in the centrifuge as well when he was done, then rummaged in a drawer and brought a little rubber hammer back over.

Rose half-smiled. "Haven't seen one of those since I was a kid," she said.

"Do you know its name?" He asked. 

It was a funny question, but she was so glad he was sharing knowledge with her like he used to that she didn't care what the topic was. "What?"

"It's a Taylor Percussion Hammer."

"Huh," she said. "Funny. Percussion. Like I'm a drum or something."

He said nothing. He came close and swept the medical gown above her knees. If she had been paying attention she could have anticipated it, but she wasn't and so she gasped and recoiled a bit. She reddened, embarrassed, when she realized.

"Do you not want me to do this? I really should, Rose."

"No, uhm, it's okay, sorry. Just surprised me is all."

She bit her lip to keep from giggling as he struck her knees and her reflexes reacted. She'd always found that a bit ticklish for some reason. As he bent in concentration his hair was all she could see, and she stared at it for a moment, overcome with a wave of affection so strong she thought she'd lose control of herself. She directed her gaze at the ceiling and begged the TARDIS to send her mind some sort of impulse to keep her strong.

The Doctor must have heard a change in the pitch of his machine because he glanced around suddenly, looking perplexed. "That was odd."

"What was?"

"Nothing, just...TARDIS." He waved his hand dismissively rather than explain it to her.

"Am I normal?" She asked as he walked away from her.

"I'm not sure yet. Not done, though."

"What else is there?"

"Saliva, urine, balance, eyes, and ears."

"Oh."

He put the hammer away.

"Who's going to do that for you?"

"Hmm?"

"Your reflexes."

The Doctor shook his head. "Not necessary for me. Superior physiology and all." He sniffed. "Believe me, I'd be dead before I had poor reflexes."

A expression passed over his face then like a shadow--something hurt and nameless. They both stilled at the same time as if the barrier between them had become visible. He'd made it halfway across the room to her, but moved no further. Finally, Rose shifted uncomfortably. "Doctor...."

"You can't just play with life and death."

"But I didn't mean to--"

"The first time you couldn't control it. This time, you could."

She pondered again exactly what he remembered and what he didn't.

"I'm really sorry."

One hand went to his hip as the other came up to rub his forehead beneath his sweep of brown hair. "And that fixes it, I suppose. You just had to join Torchwood and mess with parallel universes and go hopping around time and space on your own, like an irresponsible _fuck,_ as if I never taught you _anything,_ and--"

Rose recoiled again, only this time it was in shock and anger. What she said next came out before she could put a cap on it. "You're just angry because you felt like a failure and you _wanted_ to die."

His hand came away from his forehead and he gestured at the ceiling with it as he met her gaze, his eyes glittering. "What...you...?" He was at a loss, it seemed, so angry he couldn't continue.

"Yeah that's right, I know. I knew everything. Just for a moment, but I did. I knew more than you did. That's new, huh? _I knew we still needed you!"_ she yelled. Then added in a whisper, "I needed you."

Her words did nothing to take the glimmer from his eyes. He turned from her and paced around for a minute, at one point letting out a huff that almost sounded like the beginning of a sob, only she couldn't tell because his back was to her. Her heart skipped a beat when she heard it, but then he whirled back around again looking just as angry as before.

"You brought Jack back, and now he can _never_ die." 

Rose's eyes widened.

"I have traveled," he said, and held his hands out, gesturing as if he could make her see, "for so long. Doing this. _When will it be enough?!?"_

Rose felt her anger crumble, completely overcome by something else. It took her a moment to realize that the something was regret. She stared at the Doctor, struggling to breathe evenly.

"No," he said roughly, "don't look at me like that. You know what?" He stalked over to the counter, grabbed a cup, and threw it at her. "Just go urinate in this."

Rose picked the sterile cup out of her lap and just looked at it for a second as it blurred. She clutched it and jumped down from the table, blinking back tears. "You're a bloody wanker," she said, stalking off. She slammed the door to the infirmary loo behind her and set the cup down on the sink. She cried for a few minutes, not sure if she was more upset than angry, or vice versa. Finally she calmed down enough to splash her face with cold water.

The Doctor had irritated her in the past, but never humiliated her. As she picked up the cup, unscrewed the cap, and went to sit on the toilet, she did indeed feel humiliated. If he was going to give her closure by making her hate him then she wished she'd never insisted on staying. She'd rather spend the rest of her life loving him even if he wasn't around than regretting every second she'd ever spent with him. That was, however, apparently how he felt about her. And...no wonder. And what about Jack? Surely he must hate her too, if he'd gone and discussed this with the Doctor.

She started urinating, then stopped and placed the cup. She held it there for a second as she went, sighing. Her left elbow was on her knee and she leaned her forehead against her left palm, closing her eyes and trying to brace herself to face him again.

Finally she stood and flushed and washed her hands. She rinsed the outside of the cup, afraid she'd dribbled. Peeing in a cup was embarrassing enough on its own.

She met her own eyes in the mirror. What had she done to him? She'd never wanted him to be alone. But now....

Rose opened the door cautiously and emerged, holding the cup. The Doctor was standing in the middle of the room, waiting for her. He looked resigned as she approached. She held out the cup to him, her eyes averted, but felt his hand close around her wrist.

She still didn't look up.

"Rose." He sighed. "I'm sorry...I shouldn't have...said all that. It's fine, all right? I don't even know the extent of this yet. That's why I'm doing all these tests."

She nodded briefly, still not looking at him, and he released her wrist. She went and hopped back up on the table. 

A minute later he came back with a long cotton swab. "Say 'aaah.'"

She opened her mouth and he leaned in to swab the inside of her cheek. He raised two fingers and placed them under her chin, very gently, as he did so. He met her gaze as he pulled the swab back; there was a reluctant apology in his eyes, an offer for a tentative peace, maybe. Rose had no idea what her answering expression was. Probably not so welcoming.

They went through the rest of the tests in silence save the Doctor's instructions. He looked in her ears and eyes with a light and had her stand and perform a series of balance tests. In the past he probably would have goofed off with her and insisted she do a couple of unnecessary things, like walk with a book on her head, and then he would have teased her mercilessly for falling for it...but Rose had to stop remembering how things _used_ to be. This was...well...the new new new Doctor. Nothing could stay the same forever, and they were no exception.

Finally he told her she could get dressed. He turned his back as she did so and eventually said, "I'm going to go for a kip."

"Are you...are you sick?"

"The regeneration's left me tired. Tired and acrimonious," he said, leaving her to stare after him as he left the room.

***

"So you're saying that at some point you and the Doc shared a bed, except that you didn't, and you're surprised he can't remember it? Are you sure it wasn't a dream, Rose?"

"Well, when you put it like that," Rose said dryly.

"No," Jack said sincerely, "I believe you. I just want to understand this."

"So do I."

"Well, from what you said, his other memories are returning, so...."

"Yeah. Maybe it'll all come back to him. I don't know. I hope so. I hope it hasn't...you know...already, and he's still...." Rose pushed a hand back through her hair and switched her phone to her other ear; they'd been talking for a while and her ear was a bit sore from pressing. "Speaking of that, Jack...he told me."

"Um? Told you what, Rose?"

"What I did to you."

There was silence. "Oh."

"It's true, then." Her voice was small. "He wasn't just saying it to--to h-hurt me."

"I seriously want to knock his block off."

"He said it in the heat of the moment, Jack," Rose murmured.

"No, I want to knock his block off for _hurting_ you. For making you feel like this."

"Jack. I'm sorry."

"Stop that right now. Don't go there. It wasn't your fault--you didn't know what you were doing. And I told him never to tell you."

"Wait...why?"

"Because I knew you'd blame yourself. And _un_ like him, I didn't want you to feel bad."

"I really don't think he's himself."

Jack snorted. "Well, that's an understatement."

"So if you know that, why are you so angry?"

She heard silence for a moment, the sounds of paper being shuffled, and a long sigh. "I don't understand how you can be so giving, Rose. Why aren't you out there kicking him in the nuts right now?"

Rose bit her nail and asked thoughtfully, "You think he has any?"

Jack guffawed. "Oh please. I'm dying to know."

Rose smiled and giggled. Then the smile fell from her face as a pang of regret hit her; she shouldn't have said that, regardless of what had happened today. It was a low blow. 

Her voice was sincere but hoarse as she said, "I love him. I'm just helpless, Jack...I love him. I can't even stay mad when he deserves it. I know I should be, but I can't bring the anger up. It just _hurts_. I wish I _could_ be angry. But I spent so long waiting and...I've finally got him back, Jack, an' he isn't here."

"Yeah," he said softly. Then, "The nerve of a man who'd sleep with Rose Tyler and forget about it. I think he might be past help."

Rose snorted. Both were quiet for a beat, then she said, "You knew already that I wouldn't leave him. That's why you gave me your number knowing I couldn't call you from Pete's world."

"Well, yeah. Of course. It's 'the Doctor and Rose.'"

"You think?"

"Oh yeah, Rose," he said with such conviction that tears came to her eyes for what felt like the millionth time that day. "Always." And then, because Jack could never resist ruining a tender moment, "You didn't tell me, though...how was he in bed?"

"Good night, Jack."

He chuckled. "Buzz kill. All right, all right. Good night, Rosie."

***

Rose stayed in her room for the remainder of the day, not hungry enough to go out and eat. She didn't even want a cup of tea.

Finally, toward evening, she heard a knock on her door. She hesitated for a moment, then went and opened it to find a tray of food left on the floor for her, still hot. She felt acid dread swirl in her stomach when she noticed there was a note beside the bowl of soup. (Tomato. Tomato soup and grilled cheese, one of her longtime favorites.) She brought the tray in and set it down on top of her vanity and plucked up the note. She unfolded it cautiously and regarded the Doctor's flowing script. 

_Rose,_

_Thought you might be hungry. Eat and get some rest._  
I'm not staying in the vortex tomorrow, so I don't know  
what might come up. Just save your energy and be ready. 

_We still need to discuss how long you'll be staying._

_\--D_

 

She traced her finger over the "D" several times, then crumpled the note in her palm and fell into her bed, propped on her pillows. She pressed the crumpled ball of paper against her lips and let her food go cold.

***

Rose opened her eyes the following morning and lay still, completely unmotivated. The Doctor had really taken the wind out of her sails the day before, and all she could think was that she was homesick for her mum. Not that she was in the mood to actually _talk_ to her mum about any of this...but it would have been nice to sit with her and talk around it, maybe with the help of a plate of biscuits and some tea.

Rose felt a gentle nudging at her mind and realized it was the TARDIS who had woken her up. "What's wrong?" Rose asked, and opened her mouth in a large yawn. There was no response.

Rose gave it a few minutes and then rolled out of bed and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She went and showered and then put on a clean version of her "uniform." She went to her vanity and styled her hair there, once again foregoing makeup. She wrinkled her nose at her cold sandwich and congealed soup and took the tray so she could go wash everything in the kitchen. For a moment she had the urge to sneak in and dump everything quickly before the Doctor could see she hadn't eaten--he would feel slighted--but then she decided she didn't care. 

She didn't see him on her way to the kitchen, however, and the kitchen itself was empty as well. _Must be in the console room,_ she thought. It would truly be surreal to walk into the console room and see him there again, maybe tinkering. She felt like she was an entirely different girl from the one who used to sit there watching him.

She was struck by a memory and paused outside the console room, remembering so clearly that she forgot where she was. Her eyes glazed.

_"There's a lot of things you need to get across this universe--warp drive, wormhole refractors. You know the thing you need most of all? You need a hand to hold."_

_Rose was pointing. She glanced over at him in time to see him observe her hand. He looked surprised for a moment, then inordinately pleased, as though she'd done exactly the right thing. He clapped his hand into hers eagerly._

_"No, I'm pointing," Rose said, and dissolved into helpless giggles at the daft look on his face. Daft, and fond._

She raised her floppy sleeve to her mouth and sought her fingernails to bite them. She shook her head and sauntered into the console room before she could just turn around and go back to her room. No--today she'd do better.

He was, in fact, at the console with his back to her. He still knew the exact moment she'd come up behind him. "We've landed," he said, and she moved around next to him. 

"Where?"

He threw her a look and sternly shook his head. "No. You're not coming with me."

"What? Seriously? Why not, Doctor?"

He'd fallen asleep again last night, but his dreams had been no more welcoming than they were the first night after he'd regenerated. He was still quite tired. And had no patience. "I can't take you with me."

"Why not?"

"It's this planet. If they see you with me, they'll assume you're my possession. And I'll have to treat you as such."

"I don't care. I want to come with you."

He shook his head curtly. "No."

"Doctor, we've dealt with these types of things before. Either I'm coming with you, or you're gonna have to tie me up here in the TARDIS. I'm not just gonna sit here like a throw pillow while you go on living your life like I don't exist. So what's it gonna be?"

His jaw was clenched. "You know, half of our problems occur because you're so stubborn and jeopardy-friendly. How did you get back here with me, anyway?"

Rose backed off a step from him and looked at him oddly, confused. "You took me on board."

"Be _fore_ that."

"I came through from the parallel universe with Torchwood's help. You know that too."

The frustration fell from his face and he looked perplexed. He rubbed his jaw. "Yeah. Yeah, I did know that." His eyes flicked to hers and he made a soft noise of exasperation. "I just...the regeneration. It's confusing, everything's muddled."

He seemed lost in thought for a moment, then came back to himself and gestured brusquely at the door. "Fine. Let's go. But I'm not responsible for what happens." He walked out and let the door shut behind him. 

Rose snatched up her coat, her heart pounding hard with anger, and stalked after him. She was so tired of his emotional games--pushing people away when all he really wanted was someone to be close to. That was all he'd ever wanted, at least since she'd met him, and she knew it. Maybe he didn't want it the way she wanted it, anymore--but he did _need_ someone. She shrugged her coat on as the TARDIS door closed behind her. It was night on this planet, and she sprinted quickly after his figure retreating into the dark. She could hardly see more than a flash of his long coat flapping around his ankles.

***

The problem turned out to be an animal loose in the streets, something the Doctor said was a cousin of the Weevil. It didn't belong in this place in time, he added. He wasn't certain how it had ended up here; he only knew that he had to return it to its proper place before it wreaked havoc.

They were in a city much like any they'd visited on Earth, surrounded by tall buildings. There were very few lights on in the apartment complexes and even fewer illuminating the streets. 

"Why's it so quiet?" she whispered.

"Curfew," he whispered back. "Women don't go out unless accompanied, and most men don't travel at this hour."

She had a number of other questions she wanted to ask, but she knew better than to do so when he had that focused look on his face. Also, they were trying to sneak up on the creature, and it had extraordinary hearing. 

The Doctor gestured for Rose to duck into an alley and she did so swiftly and quietly. She sensed, rather than heard, the Doctor come up behind her--and suddenly she was being grabbed and crushed into an alcove. She tried to cry out as she scraped her knuckles on brick and then felt her head bump the door behind her, but all the sound was shocked out of her as the Doctor's warm lips descended urgently on hers.

Her sleeved hands flailed for a moment before she instinctively braced them on his chest. She could feel his hearts pounding even through the layers of fabric between them. 

She opened her mouth to him and his tongue slid over hers roughly. Her brow furrowed--it almost felt more like a punishment than a kiss in light of everything that had been happening between them. Nevertheless, she couldn't stop her body's response to him; a strange mixture of sorrow and heat thrilled through her to her centre. She warred with him, returning as good as he gave. She grabbed his suit jacket and tried to close the distance between them by pulling him to her, but he dug his heels in and resisted, refusing to let his body make contact with hers.

Suddenly he broke the kiss and glanced over his shoulder, panting. "They're gone," he said, and pulled back from her, almost stumbling. Without looking at her he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and fell into a graceful stride, passing down the alley, his lean body cutting an elegant silhouette in the spare light.

Rose just stood where she was a moment, mouth still open, watching him walk away. She could hear men chatting distantly and realized they'd almost been caught by the authorities. And since she was supposed to be his possession....

Oh.

She closed her mouth and quickly realized that she could still taste him. She squeezed her eyes shut and counted to ten before heading after him.

***

When they returned to the TARDIS neither of them addressed what had happened. Though it was doubtful he would have acknowledged it anyway, the Doctor had his hands full with locking the creature up safely. He set new coordinates and they returned it to the proper authorities on its home planet; apparently it had been stolen from the zoo there. It was suspected to have been a prank, but no one was certain.

When all was said and done and they'd gone back to their ship, the Doctor surprised Rose by whistling as he moved around the console pressing buttons. She regarded him warily as she settled on the jump seat.

"What now?" she asked, voice dull.

"I dunno. Lunch?" He gave her a questioning look and sauntered off toward the kitchen, still whistling.

She dragged herself after him and watched him as he set about making them something. 

"Need any help?"

"We've seen you in the kitchen, Rose. Best you can do for me is stay where you are."

"Oh gee, thanks," she said.

He rummaged around in the lower cupboards for a pan. "Macaroni and cheese. How's that sound? The good kind though, not the boxed stuff. I know how you Earthlings like your cheese orange and full of chemicals."

"Sounds good," she agreed. "Doctor?"

"Mmm?"

"Did you finish your tests yet?"

He spread an array of items across the center island. "The last should be done in an hour."

"What are you looking for?"

He gave her a look as if to suggest it was obvious. "Abnormalities."

She decided to give up. He'd tell her later, if it was important. "I need a break. I'm going to the library to read 'til lunch is ready."

"Why not." He hummed to himself as he set some water on the stove to boil.

Rose headed off toward the library, reflecting that it was nice to see him do something other than sit in silence or glare at her. He was always a bit peppier after solving a problem.

***

The Doctor tried to tell himself he wasn't nauseous as he gathered his printouts and test sticks from the refrigerator. He really wished he'd left this vomiting habit behind with his latest regeneration. But, same body, same quirks, it seemed.

His hands weren't completely steady as he lined everything up and began to read and study methodically, glasses perched on the end of his nose. 

In truth, he was ashamed of himself. Ashamed he'd even considered sending Rose back to the parallel world without looking this over. But he hadn't exactly had his head together, and all he had been able to think was that he couldn't have her believing she should stay. That had been his only clear thought.

He laid the two long printouts on the counter, one above the other, and scanned down them checking markers, pen in hand. The more he looked the more his brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed in confusion. Eventually, muttering to himself, he collapsed onto a stool and swept his glasses off. He rubbed his forehead hard, his head bowed. 

He sat like that a while, giving himself some time, and then got back up to analyze the other test results in the context of what the printouts were telling him.

***

Rose hadn't seen the Doctor for hours. That was pretty much all right by her, all things considered. She needed some time to digest what had happened in the alley.

Okay, truthfully she needed time to mourn. Because that's what it felt like...she was losing him, or had lost him...whatever the case may be, it all felt the same. She'd once called him "my Doctor," but this wasn't the Doctor she'd known then. She had never thought that could change.

It was early evening and she was sitting on her bed, back against the headboard, the light on her nightstand on. She had found some old magazines and was flipping through them without much interest. She had changed into a long white nightshirt to be more comfortable, knowing she wasn't going to leave the TARDIS again that day no matter what. She bit absent-mindedly at a fingernail on her left hand and turned a page.

Maybe the Doctor was right. Maybe he was always right. It was easy to believe that, at times. But no, she shouldn't have left the TARDIS earlier...probably shouldn't have insisted on staying with him, either. She hated him for making her regret being here. She had so many happy memories of living in the TARDIS with him, and she knew that he shared those memories. He couldn't have forgotten _everything_.

Just the really important stuff.

She heard a soft knock at her door, and anxiety began to gnaw away at the pit of her stomach. She wasn't sure what to anticipate from him anymore--one second calling her a stupid fuck, the next shoving her into a doorway and kissing her, then making her macaroni and cheese casually as though it were just any other day.

Rose rearranged things, pulling the duvet up over her waist. In lieu of her "uniform," it served to cover her. "Come in," she said.

The door opened and a very hesitant-looking Doctor appeared. He closed the door softly, eyes riveted to her face.

She glanced sideways at him, still biting her nail. "Yeah? What?"

"May I...." he gestured at her vanity chair.

"Yeah."

He walked over and grabbed the chair. He pulled it next to her bed and sat on it backward, straddling the back rest to look at her. 

She didn't turn to face him, but set her magazine aside.

"I've got the test results," he said.

Rose shrugged one shoulder to indicate he should spit it out.

"Please, Rose, look at me."

She hesitated, then turned to face him. She pulled a pillow against her body in the space between her chest and her hip, feeling the need to put another barrier between them. Now that she was really looking, however, she saw plainly how worried he was. She felt strangely calm.

The Doctor stalled, looking as though he couldn't find the words. "I don't know how to say it, really, so I'll just say it."

She nodded.

"I've looked everything over, and I don't know what it means, but whatever happened when you absorbed the time vortex...you're still being affected. Whatever happened on the Crucible, and then when Davros hit you with the ray...they're all pieces to a puzzle, but I don't know yet what the puzzle is telling me."

Rose exhaled slowly and began picking at her pillow. "Any ideas?"

"I think it's affected your DNA. You aren't exactly human anymore, but you aren't exactly like me, either. I don't know what you are. I've...got more questions than answers."

Rose tried to absorb what he was saying. "Am I sick? Is it...is it dangerous, these changes?"

"You're not sick, just different. I don't believe it's dangerous...I just don't know what you should anticipate. I'll have to run more tests periodically."

"How periodically?"

"Every month or so."

"Going to be a bit difficult with me at home," Rose said coldly. "You know. I mean for all you know, you'll show up to have me piss in a cup again and I won't even be there. I could be anywhere. Nothing tying me down."

He ducked his head and looked at his hands, which were grasping the back of the chair. "That's your prerogative."

"Mmm. All right."

"If you leave, you can do what you wish."

"If?"

"I won't make you stay, but I think maybe you should. Until we know what to tell people. I owe your family that much...I can't just put you in harm's way, change you forever, and drop you off to Jackie again like you're the same. You aren't."

"You want me to stay here, like this?" Her voice was still cold.

The Doctor didn't look up, didn't say anything for a long time. "We'll make the best of it."

"Why do I have the feeling this is the best it's gonna get?" 

He raised his head but said nothing more.

"What's happened to you, Doctor? We were never like this. I don't even know you anymore."

He stood. "You never did."

"How the hell can you say that?"

"I don't even know myself. I've done so many things...." he shoved his hands into his pockets and appeared to be remembering something, his eyes going a bit unfocused. "You never would have stayed to begin with if you knew."

"Well, don't exactly know why I'm here right now, either, so you might as well illuminate me."

He puffed out a little breath and his hair ruffled. "Okay," he said easily. "For starters, right before I met you I killed everyone on my home planet to end a war. My wife, my children, my mother. Also, I was in love with Sarah Jane when she was my companion. Never told her that. 'Cause it's sort of like...like having a pet. Sometimes I'm fond of the humans I travel with, but their life spans are so short...more equivalent to a dog's than to mine. That's how I see people. How I see you. Always. Is that what you want to know?"

Rose felt as if she'd been slapped, but she refused to let it show. He had essentially just told her--maybe for the first time, in his mind, depending on what he remembered--that he was in love with her. He'd said it indirectly, yeah, but he'd still basically said it. And it was somehow the most hurtful thing anyone had ever said to her. 

She willed her lungs to work, to get enough air to say what she needed. "That's not all you see. Not all you feel, or all you've done. You're simplifying things too much. You always do."

"When you've been around as long as I have you realize that everything is really quite simple."

Rose shook her head. "That isn't true. Everything is enormously complicated. _Especially_ with you. Doctor, living with you, experiencing all this...." she hesitated, then took the plunge, watching him very carefully. "I feel it. Like nothing I've ever felt."

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Rose. I don't."

Nothing. There was nothing there, not the slightest recognition. It was true--he didn't remember. 

Rose smiled.

The Doctor's expression changed to one of uncertainty. "What...what are you smiling about?"

"It's okay, Doctor. I understand."

"You do?" His tone was cautious.

"Yeah, I do. And I'll stay."

He looked like he wanted to say more. They both knew there was more to be said. He shoved his hands into his pockets and stood there for a minute or two, then nodded. "All right, then. We're on the same page?"

"Completely."

Still looking confused, he moved her vanity chair back to where it belonged and paced to her door. He turned to look at her one more time, but she had resumed reading her magazine.

"Good night," he mumbled, and slipped out.

As soon as he was gone Rose set her magazine aside again. He didn't remember their day together. His guard was still up as if it had never happened.

***

The Doctor and Rose each turned in that night in their respective bedrooms feeling unsettled. Both tossed and turned. Both eventually fell into a troubled sleep. And at some point during the night, each cried out, seeing the other's face. 


	11. Say Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
>  Things are picking up now. BTW, there is something in this chapter some readers may find disturbing, violence-wise, though it is implied and not shown. So please be aware of that. It happens when Rose and the Doctor are in pursuit of their bad guys.
> 
> However, there is also some much-needed humor in this chapter. Hope you enjoy!  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops...I posted two chapters out of order. It's this one, then "Turning Tables." So sorry!

_I don't know if it's even in your mind at all_  
_It could be me_  
_At this moment in time_  
_Is it in your mind at all_  
_It should be me, it could be me_  
_Forever_

\--Sunrise, Simply Red

_Say something, I'm giving up on you_  
_I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you_  
_Anywhere, I would've followed you_  
_Say something, I'm giving up on you_

\--Say Something, A Great Big World

_there’s nothing here but indifference_  
_there’s nothing here but the stress_  
_these walls are stained with your moments_  
_something you wanna confess?_  
_you at the point of attachment_  
_and all the things you believe_  
_there’s nothing left in this place but a reason to leave_

\--The Mess, The Naked And Famous

***

Another day at the station. The phone rang incessantly, papers were shuffled and lost, people were cursed at as a result, doughnuts and coffee were served, cliches were reinforced. Greg was on his way to the kitchen to genuflect before Maxwell House for the third time that day when Albert sauntered by him and said, "Glergh."

Greg turned toward his comrade, empty mug in hand, raising an eyebrow. "What's that?"

"Said, hi Greg."

"Mornin' mate."

Greg scrutinized his longtime coworker, who was looking considerably doughy. "You look right knackered."

Albert sneezed hugely.

"Oi." Greg turned away, strategically shielding his coffee mug and grimacing. "You sick?"

"Nah, just allergies." Albert grinned. "Sorry 'bout that."

Greg nodded, rolling his eyes, and turned to seek out the coffee pot to see if anything was left in it or if his coworkers had already downed it all and refused to make more...like the animals they were. He was pretty certain he was the silently appointed coffee-making-guy. Every workplace had one, just as every workplace had the appointed toilet-paper-replacer. At least he wasn't that. Bit higher up on the food chain.

He had almost reached the break room when he spied through the open door that indeed, if there was anything left, it was less than a cup. He grumbled to himself and then overheard Commissioner Foster yapping away in her office. She never bothered to shut her door all the way...probably because that voice could drill right through wood and glass. Stuff like that could become expensive after a while.

"I don't know anythin' about it, and I'll thank you to stop calling here and asking! We aren't responsible for who goes missing, just for finding them, and we're quite busy with that, FYI. All you're doing is tying up the line, so I'll kindly ask you to _shove off!"_ This was punctuated by the sound of a phone being slammed down into its cradle.

Journalists again. Greg set grumpily about his preparations, figuring this would be Debbie's next stop as well and God help them all if there was nothing to be had. Things were on edge enough around the station.

He eyeballed their supplies and sighed on finding all the filters gone. He grabbed a paper towel and made do with that for about the fortieth time that month; no one had noticed this practice of his yet, it seemed, or at least whoever had didn't comment. Probably just as desperate for a crap cup of coffee as he was.

The pot had just started brewing when Debbie's perfume breezed into the room. "Tell me there's more."

"More being made."

"It's a goddamn conspiracy, this! Reporters calling every bloody day, insisting some no-name's gone missing and 'we've got to know about it 'cause we're the police and patrol that area and what are we doing, having a wank behind the wheel' etcetera...I'm gonna go bloody bonkers, I am."

Greg grunted to show he was hearing her, willing the coffee pot to fill faster. He scratched his mustache to hide the way his teeth were clenching.

The sound of Debbie's shoe tapping the floor impatiently behind him became maddening.

"We'll get it solved," he said eventually, figuring there was no way around saying _something_.

"Yeah!" she said, all high-pitched and stressed-out. "We had better, Greg! All the ruckus going on you'd think half of London had gone missing." 

She launched into such a passionate rant that Greg grabbed the coffee pot before it was done brewing and eagerly filled her cup for her so she could return to her office and sharpen some pencils with her teeth or something.

***

The following morning the Doctor and Rose repeated their strained morning routine, but he did his best not to linger in it. He fixed her some tea and breakfast, playing the part of polite host, and then informed her that he was setting the randomizer before heading off to the console room.

He'd woken up feeling somewhat normal for the first time since his regeneration, not as out of sorts and disconnected, though large swaths of his memory were still missing. Rose would have been horrified to know some of the things he'd temporarily forgotten...most notably his first Christmas with her in this body.

Well. But that was back now, and at least he wasn't so tired.

The Doctor moved around the console flipping switches, letting his body run on automatic. These were gestures he'd performed thousands of times, like tying shoelaces or doing up buttons. He let his mind go elsewhere, let it worry at the problem of Rose...at the fact that he'd essentially told her he needed her to stay on with him for months. He didn't even want to think about how that made him feel...he had no choice but to go with it in any case. He had to see how the changes in her body were developing, and he would rather keep an eye on her than drop her off with her mother and jump forward in time to check on her. If he did that he'd be helpless to fix anything that was going awry while there was a possibility he could still do something about it.

After a few minutes they landed and materialized. Rose peeked timidly into the console room. "We've landed?"

"Yeah. London, summer of 2055. It's evening, mind you, but still quite warm." He glanced away from the view screen and briefly met her eyes. He affected a casual tone. "Are you coming?"

The corner of her mouth twitched in what was almost a half-smile. "Sure, I'd love to see 2055. Let me change first, just a tick."

While she was gone he shed his suit jacket; too warm for that. He'd look strange in the crowd. He leaned against the console to wait, somewhat impatiently. When she returned again dressed in shorts and a pink vest he stood and headed quickly down the ramp toward the door. Rose bounded through the console room, scurrying after him.

***

The Doctor stepped out directly onto a busy sidewalk. Pedestrians flowed past him and around the TARDIS. They took no notice of him or his companion; they were caught up in conversation, ingesting snacks, and enjoying the beautiful clean air. Signs and windows and streetlamps glittered with brilliant lighting, making everything look polished. The Doctor closed his eyes and took a deep breath, smiling when he released it. He'd never been in London in 2055, and he loved anything new. Plus, it smelled wonderful--pretzels, salt, lemonade, and women's perfume. Freesia, white musk, oakmoss. A child brushed past him and he could smell the crayons she'd been coloring with earlier that morning while breakfast was being made: toast, chocolate milk, and hard-boiled eggs. All familiar scents, nothing new, but there was something (or a lack of something) in the air. After a moment he pinpointed what it was: there were no VOCs. They finally had airborne hydrogen-solar vehicles here. He glanced up and took note of a few of them gliding around soundlessly far overhead.

And another scent....

He'd been turning in a circle, but he opened his eyes when he caught a hint of cherry blossom behind him, something that was a bit more chemical than the other smells, a bit more outdated. Rose. Rose's shampoo.

A wave of disbelief hit him as he took in the sight of her. It was so jarring to see her there; he just couldn't reconcile it with the last few months of his life. All the problems he associated with her presence made the experience more bitter than sweet, but nonetheless there was a sense of familiarity, of coming home, and he felt his stomach swoop with nervousness. It was like being on a roller coaster and hitting that first big drop before you were prepared; giddiness mixed with a sick apprehension; exhilaration mixed with an almost primal fear. 

This is when he would have taken her hand in the past. This moment. Smiling, stretching his arm towards her, wiggling his fingers--maybe his eyebrows. That smile of hers, teeth flashing white, how she always looked a little bit amazed at being so happy. 

The Doctor watched the moment come and go. He turned and strolled casually, focusing on the pleasant summer breeze. His palms itched as if they would begin sweating.

They'd been walking for a couple of minutes when Rose fell into step beside him and pointed to a vendor's cart across the street. "Lemonade, Doctor. Don't you want some?" She smiled at him. It lacked the spark of her older smiles--there was hesitation there, the sort of hesitation that exudes from someone who has come not to expect much.

"I'm fine," he said. "But you can go ahead if you'd like."

She nodded and began to cross to the cart. He slowed his gait and, after a moment, followed hesitantly, shouldering into the crowd. These days all the automobile traffic was confined to the sky and the roadways were mainly used as avenues by which to stroll and shop; they were actually considered a bit kitschy and old-fashioned, a symbol of a bygone era. Many people were out even at this hour, traveling by bike or on foot. 

Rose scanned the crowd, people-watching happily until her eye fell on something. "Doctor, look."

He turned and looked, then moved closer to the newspaper rack in question. The front page headline read, **MORE GONE MISSING.** The Doctor squinted a bit and scanned what he could see of the article quickly. "Yeah, that's it," he said, standing back up and subconsciously touching his coat where, Rose had no doubt, the sonic was tucked into an inside pocket.

Rose held her drink out to him. "Thirsty?"

He looked at her and hesitated. She could almost sense what he was thinking: awkward to accept, rude to refuse. After a moment he took the drink from her and sipped from her straw, then passed the beverage back to her. He smacked his lips a little. "Sugary."

"Yeah, not overly so. Pretty nice."

"It is."

Rose nodded and just watched him as she sipped on the straw, pretending that she wasn't fervently thinking about how his lips had just been there. Wishing.

His gaze flicked briefly to the straw, then away, over the crowd, his business face on--all knitted eyebrows and partially open mouth and deep thought. "Come along, then."

***

Rose caught the door before it could swing shut behind the Doctor. She watched him as he strode casually to the darkened bar with its fancy bottles limned with soft blue light. He side-saddled himself onto a high-backed stool and thwacked the half-rolled paper he'd purchased against the polished wood in front of him, but not in an obvious, attention-getting way. He looked around with bright-eyed interest--just a guy really interested in this particular establishment--until the bartender asked him what he'd like, and he ordered a beer as if he did it every day. Rose went and sat at a booth in the corner, just meeting his eye as he cocked an eyebrow at her. She shrugged and pointed to the table. They'd communicated wordlessly often enough for her to know that he understood her message: he could go ahead and do what he liked, but she was going to sit. She felt that she could go for an appetizer, preferably something horrible for her. The place smelled good--like fish and chips and steak. Underneath it all lurked the scent of a rather nice cologne. It made her feel comforted.

Soon Rose was given a menu and asked if she knew what she'd like to drink. She ordered a Jack and Coke, figuring that if she had to pretend living her old life was easy that she might as well _make_ it a little easier for a while. She tried to look at anything else, but her eyes kept going back to the Doctor, who was chatting easily with the bartender as he stretched back in his seat. He ran a hand through his hair occasionally and somehow passed off as a guy who had just finished a business meeting without ever actually indicating it. Every so often he glanced at the TV above the bar as if he had any interest in the football game, which Rose knew he didn't.

Her drink arrived and she sipped it. She played at her old role as navigator for a few minutes, looking for anything suspicious, but felt a bit silly. 

She could find nothing amiss, nothing alarming except for a very buzzed guy at the next table who was singing nasally along with the current pop tune. _I know some people search the world...to find something like what we have...I know people will try, try to divide something so real...so till the end of time, I'm telling you there ain't no one...._

Rose stabbed at the ice in her drink with the thin red straws she'd been provided and sighed in annoyance, glancing sideways at the Doctor and trying to tune out the uninvited (and rather bad) concert. She finally gave in and simply watched her old friend. Her...former whatever. All the time she'd spent traveling with him, hours she'd spent staring at him when he was preoccupied...if he hadn't noticed then, he _certainly_ wouldn't notice now. She watched him chuckle and gesture. He'd loosened his tie and rolled the sleeves of his pale blue oxford up to his elbows. She watched his hands, the way the muscles in his pale forearms flexed, his lithe fingers, all the Doctorish "under cover" mannerisms he affected as he spoke.

_I love him,_ she thought fiercely, and grit her teeth, deciding to abandon all pretense of being on guard. There was nothing going on in this bar--nothing more interesting or strange than the Doctor himself. She raised her glass and took a long sip through the straws. What she really wanted to do was throw said straws out and chug. Or maybe she just wanted to go up to him, tell him he was being a fool (she'd already called him a wanker, after all; "fool" would seem lighthearted in comparison) and that that they weren't going to leave here until they'd solved their primary mystery: identifying what the bloody hell was wrong with him. She'd waited long enough to know how he really felt, but she refused to believe that what he'd been displaying since she'd come back on the TARDIS was the full extent of it. All he had to do was tell her no and let her go; that was it. Her closure. So what was the purpose of this game they were playing?

But then...she wasn't eager to leave him. To think she might never see him again; she'd spent enough time believing that. She wasn't ready to return to that life again. Not yet. But neither was she willing to sit like a fly on the wall and observe him as if she wasn't there at all.

She had to make her own closure. The Doctor could do many things, but being straight with his feelings was apparently a skill which lay outside the circle of his considerable talents.

The waiter returned and Rose asked for an order of onion rings and another drink. By the time the order came to rest on her table she could feel the alcohol humming pleasantly in her bloodstream. She dug in tentatively; the rings were still burning hot on the inside.

The Doctor suddenly slid into the seat across from her and snatched one of the steaming, battered rings. She stared at him patiently while he chewed obliviously. Finally he took in her slightly annoyed expression. "Oh." He swallowed and pushed the food closer to her. "Sorry."

"No, s'okay," she said, pushing them back toward him. "We'll share." _What's mine is yours, what's yours is yours._ "Learn anything useful?"

The Doctor fished out another onion ring and leaned back in his chair. Rose thought briefly about kicking him over backward and had to bite her lip.

He took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. "Well, it's always a bit different talking to someone than reading the paper. Made small chat, you know. The suspicion on the street is that the police are up to something dodgy with the city's petty criminals. Arrests are made, the suspects never seen again. It all seems to be taking place in the Met's jurisdiction."

"That doesn't make a lot of sense." Rose's brow furrowed. She held an onion ring gingerly and bit into it carefully, not willing to scald her tongue. The Doctor was apparently immune to such hazards. "Think someone's experimenting on them?"

The Doctor shook his head. "That would imply the police are working in tandem with someone...or some _thing._ I doubt they have an operation of that scale. Too obvious."

"Well...we're back to it not making sense, then."

The Doctor hummed quietly and they ate in silence for a few minutes. Rose finished her drink, her straw making loud slurping noises in the last of her melted ice.

The Doctor focused his gaze on her glass. "Are you pissed?"

It was so strange, hearing him use words like that. He was definitely much harder than he used to be, a bit like his last regeneration. But he was still her Doctor. Rose half-smiled and held her thumb and forefinger close together. "Little bit."

"Rose, honestly. I need you to focus."

She leaned against the back of her chair and regarded him skeptically. "Do you?"

"Yeah." He leaned forward, letting all four chair legs meet the floor as he rolled one of his sleeves up a bit tighter, not appearing to give any real thought to her question or his answer.

"Well, I can focus. I'm only a bit squiffy. Besides, you had a couple of drinks. Hypocrite," she mumbled.

"Oi. You know very well it doesn't affect me the same unless I choose." He tossed an onion ring at her and it bounced off her shoulder. 

She gaped at him a bit, wondering if he'd actually just done something that could be construed as playful. 

He looked away and shifted uneasily in his seat. 

Rose decided to pass it off. "So what's the plan?" She happened to catch her waiter's eye. He gestured at her glass and looked at her questioningly, but she shook her head and signaled for the check.

"We'll hit the streets and walk around, see if we spot anything unusual."

They each took one of the two remaining onion rings, then sat in silence until the check came.

***

About thirty minutes later Rose and the Doctor were strolling around Westminster. The Doctor pulled a little device out of his pocket and began fiddling with it.

"M'glad it's not cold," Rose said. "Who knows how long this is gonna take. What is that?" 

The Doctor was fumbling something into his ear, an accessory piece to the remote-like device he held, apparently. The ear piece looked like a very tiny silver tube. Rose was certain she would have dropped it.

"Modern police scanner. Well...a little ahead of its time. 2065 or thereabouts." He fiddled with his ear, face drawn with concentration.

"You just carry that in your pocket?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Transdimensional pockets. Right."

"Never have to leave home without anything."

"They need to make a purse like that," she mused.

The Doctor cocked his head, listening, and pointed suddenly. "That way. Run!" He took off like a shot, not bothering to check if she was following, but Rose pounded after him and did her level best to stay close. After a minute of helter-skelter maneuvering she was reminded unpleasantly how out of practice she was at running for her life by a sharp burning sensation blossoming in her right side. She grimaced, but pushed herself harder rather than complain or let him leave her line of sight. Finally the Doctor came to a stop behind a hedge just at the corner of someone's darkened house; Rose came up on him so suddenly she had to use her hands to soften her crash into his back. He grabbed a handful of branches and stumbled onto one knee but said nothing, peering intently at the street. They were in a dark, secluded area. The warm air was thick with the smell of someone's flower bed and Rose took a moment to enjoy the soft earthiness of it. She'd be traveling with the Doctor for months, apparently, and they seemed to have a knack for landing where the weather was poor or cold or both. These moments were to be appreciated as they came.

By bracing her hands against the back of the Doctor's coat and leaning around his shoulder, Rose was able to spot a patrol car stopped at the kerb. She could hear voices, but faintly; whatever was going on was out of her line of sight. He apparently had a good view of it, however--good enough that he used one arm to shield Rose and push her back to indicate that she shouldn't try for a better look.

The Doctor cringed suddenly, shrinking back into her, the fabric of his coat sliding under her hands. His shoulders slumped as a sickening crunching noise filled the air. Rose didn't know what that sound was, but it was meaty and wet and she felt her stomach lurch. "Ugh, what is that?" she whispered, a bit too high-pitched. 

"Shhh!" the Doctor responded, softly but urgently. She could feel that his respiration had picked up.

About thirty seconds passed before Rose caught sight of a rather fat, rather dead-eyed police officer with a dark mustache rounding the vehicle to get behind the wheel. He opened the door and sank inside. A minute later, the car pulled away. 

The Doctor turned toward her, but rather than addressing her, he stood.

"What was it?" she asked. He was already heading back in the direction they'd just come from. He looked quite pale. "You all right?"

"No. Yeah. I'm fine. He...ate a child. He ate a child." He repeated it as if just registering it himself.

_"What?"_

His back was to her and he was standing very straight and stiff. "Well, a teenager with a bike. I think it's safe to say we know where our thieves are disappearing to."

"A teenager, though?!?"

The Doctor began walking, and Rose hurried after him. "The kid stole the bike, apparently," the Doctor murmured. "That was the accusation, anyway. I didn't have time to do anything...it was very sudden."

Rose did something impulsive; she grabbed the Doctor's right arm and wound hers around it. She peered up at him with worried eyes. "What are we going to do?"

He didn't acknowledge her grip, but didn't shrug her off either. He seemed to be a thousand miles away as he answered her. "We're going back to the TARDIS. Then to the station."

***

"So, you're gonna let me in on the plan, Doctor, yeah?"

"Yup," he said. "I know what we're up against now, so I just have to get close enough to fix the problem."

"And what's that?"

"It's the Narkai. They're inside the station. They're opportunistic and they're using their new-found authority to corner people. Sort of a brilliant way to hunt, really."

"Dunno that I'd call eating children brilliant. Or any person, for that matter. Where are these things from?"

"Weeell, technically the Narkai aren't a people...they're a virus," the Doctor clarified. "It comes from a number of places. Probably came here on a meteorite, I'd imagine." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"That's new," Rose said, and the Doctor was secretly a little proud to hear the fascination in her tone. She hadn't lost that at least.

He stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out something that looked like a tube of chapstick. "This is the counter-agent to the virus. It works in the same way: it spreads. Highly contagious. It attaches itself to the virus and dissolves it. I just have to make physical contact with one of them and make sure to transmit it by the most direct route possible. We'll go to the station and I'll demand to see the Commissioner, who I discovered on the TARDIS is female...which is to my advantage. Once I'm face-to-face with her I'll put this on and turn up my pheromones. The moment she kisses me it'll all be over with."

Rose was regarding him with something like horror or disgust or a mix of both. "You can do that? And also--I'm not even going to comment on the last half of what you just said."

Irritation flashed across his face. "I can control most aspects of my physiology, you know that. I've never used it for ignoble purposes. Nor would I ever. S'not as if I'm doing this for my personal pleasure." His tone was particularly sharp on this last. "I don't even do...." he gestured oddly. "All that."

Rose gave an exaggerated nod. "Is that what the youngsters are calling it these days?"

The tips of his ears actually turned a little pink, so Rose decided to tease him further.

"You have fantastic control, Doctor. Congratulations for walking upright on two legs. You'd make Mum proud."

"The Prime Minister would be hard-pressed to make Jackie Tyler proud."

"The Prime Minister never had a reason to fear my mother."

"That's cause he's never met her."

"Well." Rose nodded her head to one side. "I'll give you that, I suppose." She leaned closer to him and bumped her shoulder against his like old times. He acknowledged her with a brief look that was neither friendly nor antagonistic. As much as she hadn't been relishing his coldness she would have been grateful to see something on his face--anything, really. She couldn't even tell what he was thinking.

He'd parked the TARDIS near the New Scotland Yard, but not too close. The building had been rebuilt at some point and, Rose thought, it looked quite intimidating. It was all black-tinted glass and sleek gray marble, less windows than there used to be. A steep flight of steps led up to the entrance. "Here it comes, Doctor. Your big date. Hope you've got a breath mint. There's no chance you're going to catch this Narkai thing and devour me, is there?"

"The counter-agent will protect me. Also...please don't remind me. You didn't see what I did."

"I'm sorry," Rose said, feeling suddenly very small at his efficient shutdown in the face of her playfulness. She mentally kicked herself. She was trying to infuse their interactions with their old friendly banter to remind him of how nice it had once been between them, but she was obviously doing a miserable job.

The Doctor ran lithely up the steps to the front entrance without replying, leaving her to plod ungracefully after him. She was worn out from all the walking and running, and she was pretty sure she was getting blisters on the backs of her heels because her shoes weren't worn-in enough. She made a mental note to get back in shape; maybe her jump rope was still on board the TARDIS. Yes...get back in shape and save her breath for running rather than making stupid, thoughtless comments. The Doctor had witnessed countless horrors in his lifetime, and she'd just joked about the most recent one? Brilliant. She sighed but began her climb after him still feeling determined.

***

Rose waited at the front desk; they'd only let the Doctor back when he'd noisily insisted on making a complaint to the Commissioner, and he currently had an officer--who looked very patient in a very annoyed sort of way--trying to placate him. Rose couldn't hear what they were saying from where she stood, but she watched for a couple of minutes as the Doctor gestured as though aggravated. The officer finally excused himself and disappeared. Rose watched the Doctor take out his tube. She nearly laughed aloud at how prissy he seemed now, applying his "chapstick" after just having what was essentially a shouting match with one of London's most ornery officers. She couldn't stop a few giggles from escaping.

After a minute the same officer appeared and shook his head, explaining something. The Doctor said something and the officer's eyes went wide. He regarded the Doctor for a long moment, then suddenly grabbed him by the lapels of his coat and planted a frankly passionate kiss on his lips.

Rose's mouth dropped open.

The kiss broke after a long, uncomfortable moment during which the Doctor flailed and business went on as usual in the back; no one even looked around to see what the commotion was. The officer released the Doctor and his heels once again met the floor, but it took a long moment for the noticeable tension to start to ease up from his limbs and for his arms to make their way back to his sides. Rose only wished she could see his face. Honestly, she'd have settled for seeing her own right then.

The officer went back behind his desk as if nothing had occurred and began to shuffle some papers.

The Doctor spun slowly on his heel and walked back toward Rose, his head down, cheeks burning red.

"What...was...that," Rose asked as he came close enough to hear.

The Doctor muttered something unintelligible and breezed past her. Chuckling, Rose followed him out the doors. 

"No no no no no, wait, I have to know...."

The Doctor turned around at the head of the steps when he realized Rose was no longer walking behind him. She was doubled over laughing, face pink, wiping at a tear streaming from her right eye.

"I...." He looked very sheepish. One hand went up to scratch the back of his neck, his elbow cocked sharply into the air. "I may have meant to establish a sense of male dominance so I could speak to the Commissioner, but it's, er, been a while since I tried to manually control those processes and...I might have activated my pheromones instead."

Rose laughed even harder, her guffaws becoming silent as she fought for air. She sat down on the granite.

The Doctor scuffed at the ground silently until she got hold of herself. "Have you had a good enough laugh at my expense?"

She nodded and finally climbed to her feet.

"All right then," he mumbled, and began his descent down the steps.

***

The Doctor assured Rose that the officer in question--Greg, his name was--had no doubt been infected and that the Narkai didn't stand a chance in the face of the counter-agent. No matter how far it had spread it would be wiped out quickly.

Rose tried to contain herself, she really did, but every now and then she fell into a helpless fit of giggles for a couple of minutes. The Doctor didn't comment on it. She _did_ feel bad for laughing, but she knew that deep down he saw the humor in it, somewhere. There was a time once when he would have laughed about it.

On their return to the TARDIS Rose suddenly remembered how jet-lagged she used to feel after their adventures when she first started traveling with him. It was night on the Earth they'd just visited, but only mid-afternoon by TARDIS time. She didn't think she could make it until night to sleep, so she excused herself from the console room where the Doctor was lying stretched out on his back, eating a banana and glancing back and forth from some wiring to an impressive-looking, leather-bound book he'd taken from the library. He nodded slightly to show he'd heard her excuse herself.

Rose went to her room and curled into her bed with an old magazine she'd forgotten reading, and eventually fell asleep with it, crumpling the perfume-scented pages under her. She woke several hours later a bit disoriented and headed to the en suite. Once there she showered and changed into her pyjamas and brushed her teeth, thinking that would put her back into sleep mode, but she found that she simply had no desire to go back to bed. She felt on edge, wired.

She sat on her bed with the magazine again, but this time she couldn't focus. She was suddenly thinking about the Doctor's examination of her, wondering what he'd been looking for. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth and eventually started biting her nails without realizing it--a habit she had been trying to break. If the Doctor hated her so much and yet refused to let her out of his sight, what could that possibly mean? What was he afraid of her becoming?

She remembered the moment she'd leaned over to kiss him on the Crucible. It had been a kiss, yes (their last with any tenderness behind it, apparently), but really more of a transfer. It wasn't really the same as when the Doctor had kissed her on the Gamestation while removing the Time Vortex energy; he could have done that some other way, being the touch-telepath he was. Through the mouth was the most direct, logical route Rose had been able to take since she didn't trust that she could control the power flowing through her. It was all impulse with Bad Wolf energy. The impulse of something else, but with her in the passenger seat giving occasional directions; that was how it felt.

She'd felt most of the energy disappear into the Doctor as he was restored, but not all of it. She couldn't access it right now but some of it was still lurking. She couldn't call on it but she knew it was there. Maybe it was even what had made her so restless when she'd been forced to return to her normal life. She'd thought for a long time that after traveling with the Doctor she couldn't be content with a regular life anymore because of all she'd done and seen...but maybe there was more to it than that.

Maybe she didn't belong on Earth anymore. Maybe the only place that made sense for her was up here, surrounded by the unknown. Or maybe she didn't have a place anywhere--the Doctor was clearly rejecting her, and he was the one person who might be able to understand her predicament. Maybe nothing else like her existed.

Maybe she was just like the Doctor in that regard.

Rose felt a shroud of depression fold around her. She'd always felt for him, had spent a lot of time pondering his predicament, but now...ironically...she was feeling something similar. And he was partly to blame. 

_Stop,_ she chastised herself. _He has no idea you feel this way. You can't put it all on him._

But what would he do if he knew?

She tried to imagine broaching the subject with him, but after running several scenarios through her head she realized there was no way for her to put it into words he would be receptive to, and "Hey Doc, I know you've been alone for ages now and your entire planet is gone and it's all your fault, but I'm pretty sure I know how you feel now, so stop ignoring me, yeah?" wasn't exactly something you said over tea. Especially after what she'd potentially done to him. _When will it be enough?_ he'd asked. As though he wanted to die.

Anything she said was bound to end in an ugly string of insults being slung back and forth.

She sat on her bed in an agonizing state of indecision for the next thirty minutes or so, but couldn't calm her restless legs; she wanted to be near him. She wasn't certain what she was going to say or do...she just knew she wanted his proximity. Her imagination was running wild and it seemed that taking some action was the only thing that was going to calm her. She considered calling her mum, but ultimately decided that all she could possibly do was upset her mother and make her worry if she sensed things weren't going well.

Rose left her room and gently prodded the TARDIS to show her where the Doctor was. Almost immediately the door to the media room appeared in the wall to her right, and Rose opened it gingerly. The Doctor was inside, sitting on the couch with the overhead dimmers off. The light from the telly flickered over him, lighting his features and then throwing them almost immediately back into darkness. He turned his head to look at her, but she couldn't see his face enough to read his expression. He said nothing for such a long moment that she regretted her impulse. "Sorry...I'll just...."

He nodded at the space beside him to indicate she could take a seat. Heart thudding wildly in her chest and ears for no reason, Rose drew the door shut behind her and swiftly curled into the cushions of the soft but homely red couch before he could change his mind. She willed herself to calm down and focus on the movie; he was watching Pulp Fiction. She knew he'd seen it before. He must particularly like the movie.

Or maybe he'd just forgotten it along with everything else.

Rose tried to tune in but all she could really think about was his silence. It didn't feel like a "movie watching" silence, and for no good reason she felt her restlessness begin to morph into irritation. To distract herself she shifted, tucking her legs underneath herself. Her feet poked the Doctor's thigh and she pushed against him a bit. "Do you mind? You're taking up half the couch."

"I'm not the one sprawled out all over it."

"You could push over. You have room."

"And you could always go back to bed."

"Can't sleep."

"Well, I _don't_ sleep." Much, he didn't add.

Her annoyance had risen to a point where she couldn't help but snark back childishly, "Yeah, yeah. Superior in every way."

He snorted. "Except in the foot department. Has anyone ever told you that your feet are rather large?"

She turned her head and glared at him. "I'll tell _you_ what I'm going to do with my large foot...."

He glared back at her, but after a moment his lips trembled. He gave in and started laughing.

Rose smiled begrudgingly, but the sincerity of his laughter began to win her over and she giggled. "All right, all right," she conceded. "I have big feet. But you're one to talk. Bit like the pot calling the kettle black, yeah?"

His laughter calmed, his face smoothing out as he refocused on the TV. "I forgot you used to say that so much."

"Say what?"

"'Yeah.'"

Rose looked away and bit at her thumbnail, heart clenching at his simple acknowledgment of their past. 

The Doctor shifted closer to the arm of the couch to give her feet some room, and Rose immediately regretted having said anything. She felt bereft with that space between them. 

Butch and Fabienne were talking in the bedroom, lying on the bed. Fabienne was giving her ridiculous potbelly speech, but Rose suddenly remembered what came next and wondered if she was just imagining the unbearable tension that seemed to fill the media room. 

_"Say it," Fabienne whispered on screen._

_"I want you to be with me."_

_"Forever?"_

_"Forever and ever."_

Rose flashed back against her will to the restrained hope she'd seen in the Doctor's eyes that day when he'd asked her, _"How long are you going to stay with me?"_

Before she could halt the memory she saw the two of them in his bed, remembered the desperation in his eyes that last night: how it had prompted her to sweep her thumbs over his cheeks and kiss him tenderly, tightening her legs around his waist and memorizing the feel of him inside her. She'd been a little afraid of his fragility, never having seen it before and not understanding its purpose in that moment. Rightfully so, in retrospect.

The contrast of her memories and the tender scene in the movie with the current distance between her and the Doctor, both metaphorical and actual, was almost unbearable. All her muscles were tense with indecision; she wanted to flee, wanted to confront him, wanted to stay and sit quietly. Wanted to punch the bloody hell out of him.

She settled for punching the cushion that was propped under her right arm and scrunching down to rest her head on it. She closed her eyes, hoping that if she pretended long enough that she would actually fall asleep. Maybe with him so close she could avoid the nightmares she'd been having lately.

As the credits rolled and the room darkened further the Doctor regarded Rose sleeping open-mouthed against her cushion. She was curled tightly so that she wouldn't accidentally brush him with her feet again, had maintained that tension even in her sleep. He wondered what she was dreaming; if her dreams were haunted. He didn't need as much sleep now as he had in the days immediately following his regeneration and he was glad; he was tired of reliving Canary Wharf and the events on Krop Tor. He had thought he'd filed those things away long ago, but his subconscious had refused to keep them buried ever since Rose had come back on board. It was as though his inner masochist was out to remind him how easily she had been lost before, even as he tried now to get rid of her again.

He hesitated for ten minutes or so, wondering if he should wake her so she could return to her own room. Finally he pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and spread it over her, adjusting it to to cover her feet; she hated having them exposed, though she also hated wearing socks to bed. Remembering this he rolled his eyes to himself, but then noticed that the backs of her heels had been rubbed raw from running around in her new trainers. He let the edge of the blanket drop into place and stood back, eyes fixing next on a lock of hair that had fallen across her face. He turned for the TV remote, shut it off, and left the room.


	12. Turning Tables

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter in which the Doctor gets the results of the tests he's been performing on Rose and she witnesses his anguish in a way she'd never anticipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize...I initially posted two chapters out of order. There is a chapter before this one titled "Say Something." So sorry! Or, as ten would say, "I am so, so sorry."

_Touch me and then turn away_  
Put your hands into the flame  
Tell me if you feel this pain  
'cause I don't want to be your ball and chain 

_I just can't keep hanging on_  
To you and me  
I just don't know what is wrong  
With you and me  
With you and me 

\--Hanging On, Active Child

_I saw you cry today_  
The pain may fill you  
I saw you shy away  
The pain will not kill you 

_You made me smile today_  
You spoke with many voices  
We traveled miles today  
Shared expressions voiceless 

_It has to end_

\--Numb, Sia

***

After running all his tests for the second time and reviewing the results meticulously three times over, the Doctor rolled his stool back from the counter. He wrapped one arm around himself and brought the fingers of his other hand to his lips. He was the very picture of a scientist facing a conundrum. He sat like that for a long time, a thousand-yard stare on his face, completely unaware that his respiratory bypass had kicked in. Eventually he heaved a sigh and blinked for the first time in maybe twenty minutes.

He was horrified. He felt afraid, and guilty, and anxious, and a rush of something else much more complicated. He tried to quash this last, to put it out like a birthday candle, but it wasn't possible. He'd gone beyond that a long time ago.

He thought long and hard about his new dynamic with Rose, about how it had been since she'd come back on board. He was angry all the time. Angry she hadn't gone away, angry at any hint of domesticity, angry at the silent accusation that he was responsible for the pain she felt. She didn't say that, but he felt it. 

He was a _Time Lord._ He wasn't meant to go around cooking and serving eggs in the morning or spending an extra five minutes in front of the mirror to make sure he was appealing to others or run around holding a human girl's hand _everywhere he went for no reason other than that he enjoyed it._ All the playing house...it was silly.

Ever since Rose had come back on board the ship he'd had nothing but nightmares, felt nothing but on edge every moment of every single day, been reminded of an impossible past in which he'd deluded himself beyond the point of return in a stupid act of defiance and self-indulgence. He was more angry at himself than anything else.

Ever since she'd returned he'd felt haunted by her; she shouldn't be here and yet she was. And he didn't know how to deal with it. _Wasn't_ dealing with it, frankly. He had thought it might become easier, but it had actually only become more difficult for both of them.

Now this. 

He leaned his elbows on his knees and bent forward, rubbing his palms over his forehead, curling his fingers into his hair. What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to tell her?

Should he tell her anything? He could always do this in secret, take the choice out of her hands if possible, because he of all people knew best about things like this. He'd destroyed enough lives to know. He'd destroyed his own life enough to know. It was one more difficult decision, just one more in a sea of what, thousands he had made on behalf of others?

Still hunched over with his elbows on his knees, the Doctor covered his mouth with both hands and pushed from the toe of one trainer to the other, swiveling back and forth on his stool. He considered the last few weeks. They had become very cordial, but he'd never allowed their new relationship to progress beyond that. He utilized her more during their missions now than he had at first--she was smart, after all, and an asset--but they were not what they used to be. On the ship they had fallen into the routine of two roommates who tolerated each other but who tried not to be in the same room too often or for too long. There was a certain warmth Rose let slip at times, however, a sadly flawed hope she betrayed before once again becoming detached. He suspected that if he encouraged it she would open up more, but he kept his distance. He hadn't left her behind with Jackie, not really, but emotionally he had. At moments he caught her looking at him with a cold, contemplative expression she didn't bother to hide, and it was in those times that he felt the table was turning. He wasn't the only one confused; she was wondering just what he was as well; what had replaced the man she used to know.

He'd made a marginal effort at first to forgive her...or rather, had thought many times that he should, but in the end he snatched reflexively at the tails of his new despair, even welcoming it to a large degree. It had always seemed inevitable after all, and he figured he had better learn to embrace it. All the more because, for a while there on the Crucible, he hadn't felt the despair at all. For a while he'd been done.

He tried every day not to think of it, but trying to forget about it didn't change the fact: he had been nowhere in particular and yet had known he could be anywhere; he wasn't in space, wasn't traveling in an impossible box or visiting some far-flung planet (as if any place was truly far-flung for him); and though he knew he was in an in-between place, he had also known that he could choose any moment to move on...and that whatever came next, it was brilliant.

It was dream-like, and the details were fuzzy...but the feeling that had accompanied his death were unfortunately very clear. 

And she'd taken him back from it. He'd gone running as far as he could and she'd dragged him back.

He felt that every moment of his life people had been asking something of him: to save them; to be human; to want the things they wanted; to be what they thought he should. To be like _them_ , somehow. And he was always exhilarated at the adventure in every challenge, had lightly scoffed at the things he knew he'd never be happy doing, and had jumped directly into the next exciting thing to avoid the unfavorable...but it had worn at him. What about what _he_ wanted? He'd spent so long telling himself he wasn't supposed to want anything at all, that it wasn't his place to want, especially after the Time War. Before the war he'd had the nerve to fantasize sometimes, late at night when he had some peace, that eventually he would be rewarded for the things he'd done. He was uncomfortable with those musings, feeling like a reward-seeker, but he was a good person, wasn't he? And good people were eventually acknowledged, right?

Looking back on that past self now he saw nothing but a naive child. He'd been punished for those thoughts, most definitely.

He remembered two things as he swiveled on his stool, two statements which horribly contradicted each other but which had been made in the same breath by an old friend not so very long ago: _"The universe will never owe you anything. You've just got to take it. And right now you've got Rose back. Don't blow it."_

He licked his lips, feeling ill.

He had about ten more seconds of stillness in which to rack his brain, and then all thought was gone and his adrenaline was burning fire through his veins as a scream rang through the infirmary. He was on his feet and running well before he was aware of having moved, and then he was at Rose's side.

"Rose! Rose! What's wrong?!?"

He quickly realized she'd only been dreaming, but when she bolted upright in bed and clutched at him with wide eyes and sharp fingernails he knew that she wasn't yet aware of that herself. He took long breaths, trying to slow his hearts beats as he rubbed her back. "You were dreaming. Stop! Rose, you were dreaming." He pulled back a bit and shook her gently. "Are you awake? You're safe now, I promise. Shhh."

She gave a little cry and clutched him harder. "I couldn't save you," she said frantically, voice choked with tears. "We were on the Crucible and I couldn't save you...." She swallowed. "The Bad Wolf destroyed everything an' I couldn't control it...Mum, Mickey, even Jack. Everyone."

"Hey." He pushed her back again, more firmly this time. He took her face between his hands, meeting her eyes with a gentle force in his gaze. "Bad Wolf isn't evil. It's part of you and you would never have that in you. You _did_ save me. I'm right here." 

He watched her face as she warred with the fear, trying to meld what she'd just seen with the reality of the amorphous darkness surrounding them. Eventually her breathing slowed and she squeezed her eyes shut. "I'm sorry."

He let go of her but didn't back away. She kept her eyes closed. "I have nightmares too," he volunteered, immediately wondering why he was admitting it.

Her eyes opened and betrayed her surprise. "Yeah?"

There it was again. The old warm familiarity rushed forcefully through him and he tilted his head back and forth and widened his eyes, mocking but friendly. _"'Yeah.'"_

She presented him with a tremulous smile. "About what, then?"

He looked down, sobering. "Canary Wharf. Krop Tor," he mumbled quietly.

She placed her hand over his. "Me too."

He made no move to take her hand, and eventually she drew back. "I didn't think those things still affected you," she said flatly. 

The Doctor didn't answer. Finally he flicked his eyes back up to her face. "Are you all right?" He touched the side of her arm. "You should go back to sleep."

She didn't say anything for a while, biting her bottom lip. The look in her eyes changed as she seemed to find her resolve, but he sensed that the conversation was about to shift into uncomfortable territory. "I couldn't have managed if I'd lost you."

Again he said nothing, but eventually he gave the barest nod, the darkness around them lending him strength enough to do it.

Rose took his hand and raised it, pressing a kiss to his palm. He pulled away as if he'd touched fire, and stood quickly.

She looked injured, but not surprised. "I'm sorry." She tilted her chin up defiantly. "You know what, though? I've faced Daleks and Cybermen with you, yeah, but when it comes to feelings we always shy away. An' I for one am tired of doing it."

"Don't be sorry," he said tightly, cutting her off before she could elaborate. "Go to sleep, now." He'd done what he could, but he couldn't stay and listen to this.

She lay back on her bed on her side, facing him so she could watch him leave. Though he did it calmly and quietly, he was fleeing from her. Everything he did was just fleeing with another name. Both of them understood that now.

***

The Doctor didn't think he would sleep that night but at some point his mind must have given up and shut down, because he finally came to under the console with a crick in his neck. He rubbed it and grimaced. He might not be human, but he wasn't always immune to the same sorts of aches and pains.

He realized he was still clutching his sonic, so he tucked the tool into his pocket before he climbed out from under the console to make his way toward the kitchen. As he neared the door he grew puzzled, and he consulted his inner time sense: it was 5:30am. But there was noise coming from the kitchen...music filtering through the TARDIS speakers. And someone humming underneath that. The joyful chaos was rare; he had a very impressive music archive on the ship but shamefully didn't call on it very often. 

The Doctor pushed the door open and stood just looking at Rose Tyler as she finished folding an omelet closed in a pan on the stove, wiggling her hips a bit to the beat of the song. She suddenly raised one foot off the floor as she leaned over in a dramatic sideways arc, bracing herself on the counter with one hand and reaching with the other to grab the toast as it popped from the toaster. She bounced on her toes a bit, singing, _"There is always something there to remind me...."_ She tossed the toast gracefully onto a plate and looked over her shoulder at him as if she'd known he was there all along, and he suddenly felt the way she must in those moments when he revealed that he was always aware of what was going on around him: completely transparent and a bit abashed, as though he'd been caught peeking. It was disconcerting, he had to admit.

"There you are. I made toast and tea, and omelets with tomatoes and spinach. We're out of bananas, though, sorry," she added, wrinkling her nose, eyes friendly and sparkling.

He moved stiffly to the center island to settle on a chair, trying to shake the notion that he was walking into a trap. Rose Tyler was never up and about before him--ever. And so cheerful.

He realized something suddenly, maybe in light of Rose's perky mood--realized it with such amazement and clarity that it was almost funny in light of how obvious and mundane it was: he was depressed. He was depressed in the way humans got depressed. In that way they made commercials about. Depressed in the way that they walked around in slippers and dressing gowns, turning down phone calls and shunning everyone but the family dog. And he'd been in this state for _ages_ without acknowledging what it was. Mister I'm-So-Clever. He rested his forehead in the palm of his hand and emitted a genuine laugh.

"Wha's so funny?" Rose asked, sliding his plate in front of him.

The Doctor just shook his head as he gingerly removed a piece of toast from his plate. "Private joke."

"Mmm." Rose raised an eyebrow, looking at him with some skepticism and a complete lack of surprise as she settled in the chair across from him with her own plate. "I think all your jokes are private these days, Doctor."

"Maybe," he agreed. 

"I didn't think you found anything funny," she said, raising her own slice of toast and picking at a corner of it with her fingernails to remove a burnt spot. "I miss that. How we used to laugh about everything." She didn't lose her good humor as she said it, but he didn't miss the hurt lurking underneath.

The Doctor took a timid bite from his toast and tried to smile reassuringly.

"Thanks for coming to me last night," Rose went on. "I'm sorry about that. I was...well. It was a vivid dream." Her eyes were so sincere and inferred so much that he momentarily could have believed she'd never left the TARDIS. Those lashes of hers. Once, when he was in his last body, he'd upset her by affectionately teasing her that they looked like spiders who'd been thrown in an ink-pot. She took offense to that and he was sorry because, in fact, he found it charming. Trapped under the intimacy of her gaze now, like a pinned insect, all of this came rushing back into his memory like a hard punch, and it knocked the breath out of him.

He bolted from his chair and ran.

"Doctor--"

He hardly registered her voice behind him as he sprinted toward his room, which the TARDIS conveniently drew closer for him. He dashed directly into his en suite, landing on his knees just in time.

***

Rose meandered through the door after the Doctor, brow furrowed. She could see him through his open en suite door, saw his shoulders tense as he retched. She'd been with him for years and had never seen him sick even once. She was pretty sure that she could remember wanting to deck him once while he was supposedly "nursing" her through some alien flu and he'd bragged about how Time Lords simply didn't vomit.

She didn't say anything. She just went to him and sat next to him on the floor and rubbed his shoulder and waited until he was through. When she felt that he was, she placed the back of her hand against his forehead. 

He shook his head, pale. "Don't worry. This happens a lot." He kept his eyes averted. 

She could read him well enough to know that he didn't want to be seen right now. She couldn't leave him, though; her heart rate had picked up at his last words. "What do you mean, 'a lot?'"

He seemed to have an internal debate. His dark eyes were still turned away from hers, fixed instead on the cold white porcelain. For a while she thought he wouldn't answer. "Almost daily," he finally admitted.

She brushed his cheek and he flinched a little, almost before she'd even touched him. She ignored his reaction to her comforting gesture as if it hadn't happened. "I'll be right back."

Rose returned to the kitchen and got another kettle going to give him time to himself. She rummaged through the cupboard and pulled out a battered old box of chamomile tea that she'd thought she remembered from when she was last on board. It was odd--finding familiar things in the TARDIS only reminded her that as much as she knew the Doctor, everything about him had changed. It had almost stopped hurting, even. She kept reminding herself of her last Doctor and how she'd lost him. She'd learned to live with that...had even come to love the new one. While she wasn't sure that she and this current Doctor, whoever he was, would ever connect as well, he was still hers and would always be. She knew that. The TARDIS knew it, too, or the trusty ship wouldn't have left his door open so she could find him vomiting, something Rose was more than certain that the Doctor would have liked to keep private.

Once his cup of tea was ready she returned to the en suite. He was still sitting there, looking dejected and...well, sort of embarrassed. 

Rose sat down, very business-like, and handed him the cup, trying to seem clinical. "When did this start, Doctor?"

He turned the cup a little so that he could grasp the handle, appearing to formulate his answer all the while. Rose braced herself for a horrifying and complicated story, or some very awful news, something that might put all of his recent behavior into context.

He tried a sip of the tea instead of immediately answering. It seemed to hit the spot; he wrapped his hands around it gratefully as if to warm them, and slowly began to regain a little of his usual color. Eventually he spoke. "I lost you at Canary Wharf and then...well. That's when." 

Rose watched as he closed his eyes and swallowed as though fighting back the urge to be sick again. Without thinking about it she reached out to ruffle his hair as he took his next sip. He only gazed at her over the rim of his mug as she did so. 

"Did something happen after I left?" she asked. "Did you...get some sort of illness, or?"

At first he was confused, and then realized that she had no idea what he was telling her. She'd learned to tread lightly around him and not to read into anything. He made himself answer before his filter could kick in. "I just told you why."

Her look of confusion melted into one of doubt, and her eyes watered. "Because of...us?"

He tried to blink and break the heaviness of the moment with her unexpected choice of pronoun, but the blink backfired when it caused a tear to go rushing down his cheek. There was no way to hide it from her. He listened to his voice answer her distantly; it was as though his ears were clogged with cotton. "Yes."

That's when everything broke.

"I have to tell you something," he said.

Rose was still visibly struggling with her emotions, no doubt remembering what their time apart had been like. She reached up to grab a tissue from beside his sink and blotted her eyes for a moment. "What's that?"

He set his cup aside and moved so he could rest his back against the wall. He drew his knees up against his chest and watched her carefully, wishing he could offer her some comfort...but he felt too guilty to try. "I've seen enough of your test results to get a clear picture of what's been happening inside you."

She looked like she might be sick herself. "Is it bad?"

He thought about it for a long moment. "I don't know how to answer that."

"Okay then." She had that stolid look in her eyes, that stiff-upper-lip, Rose-Tyler-can-handle-the-worst look. "Just tell me."

He inhaled deeply. "Its...." He reconsidered how to begin. "You aren't Bad Wolf, first off. I did absorb most of the Time Vortex energy from you the first time." He nodded. "The second time, when it was reactivated, you gave me what you could of it. I don't know what that was. Call it...fate?" He gave a brief, rueful laugh. "I suppose something out there has decided it's not done with me yet, which is extremely ironic considering the Vortex energy killed me the first time. Killed and saved me. Always keeping the balance, that Bad Wolf." He met her stolid look head on then, as if encouraging her to hate him for what he was about to say. "But I'm afraid you've paid the price for it. You're getting the worse end of the bargain. You aren't aging anymore, Rose. Whatever excess energy it gave you, whatever bit that's left that I can't take away...at least not yet...has extended your life. I just can't say for how long."

Rose picked at the tissue in her hands, expression slowly smoothing out until she was staring at him blankly, realizing. "Like Jack."

He nodded. "I don't know why it never occurred to me before. Why I never considered that if it could do that to him it might do something similar to its carrier. I'm sorry. I should have."

"Am I...able to die?" she managed.

"I don't know the answer to that. I don't think there's any test I can run that would tell me. But if it's any consolation, you don't make me feel...like Jack does. If you did I would have noticed this sooner. I feel a sort of...aversion to him. He's a fixed point, but shouldn't be. It's hard to be around."

They said nothing for a while. Then, suddenly, she asked, "What about you? What did this energy do to _you_ when I brought you back? You were running tests on yourself, not just me."

So selfless. Always. He really hoped there was some real anger coming, and soon, because he couldn't bear her sad acceptance much longer. 

He shrugged, agitated. "The changes are minimal. My guess is that you may have granted me a few more regenerations, but I won't know until the time comes." He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, a wry smile curling his lips, and clasped his hands around his knees. "Boy...would the High Council be upset if they knew _you_ existed. No one's supposed to be able to do what you did, if I'm right. Only them."

"I can't go home, can I," she murmured.

The Doctor looked at her, but this time it was Rose who looked away, down into her lap. He felt a lump form in his throat. "It would be difficult, currently. But Rose, I'm working on a way to fix this."

She tucked her hair behind her ear. "Can you? I mean, you didn't for Jack."

"I don't think I can for him. Like I said, fixed point. But maybe I can do something for you." She finally looked up, but he couldn't read her. His eyes widened as he promised, "I won't stop trying."

She nodded at his cup. "You want more tea?"

He lifted it and drank most of what was left. "I'm good. Thanks." Rose held her hand out for the cup and he gave it to her. She stood with it and left to bring it to the kitchen, and he understood that she needed some time alone. He sat where he was for a while, wondering what she was thinking, what she was feeling.


	13. Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose changes everything with one cup of tea. It all comes to a head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that I made an error with the previous two chapters. I posted "Turning Tables," but there was meant to be a chapter before that titled "Say Something." I apologize for the error and any confusion it caused.

_The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out_  
_You left me in the dark_  
_No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight_  
_In the shadow of your heart_

 _I took the stars from my eyes and then I made a map_  
_And knew that somehow I could find my way back_  
_Then I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too_  
_So I stayed in the darkness with you_

\--Cosmic Love, Florence And The Machine

***

_"I won't stop trying,_ he'd promised.

For some reason those words refused to stop looping in her head. She could see his face still, the promise of his expression, and knew he'd thought that what he was saying was comforting rather than heartbreaking. Of _course_ he wouldn't stop trying; he hadn't wanted her back on board to begin with. He would have dropped her off and left her to figure that one out by herself. She wondered how long it would have taken her to realize she wasn't aging; how long it would have taken other people to notice.

Once upon a time if someone had asked Rose what was stopping her and the Doctor from having a real relationship she would have said, with complete certainty, that it was the fact that she would age. Now that had changed and all he'd had to say about it was that he would "fix it."

She remembered the day she'd met Sarah Jane.

~~~

_"How many of us have there been traveling with you?"_

_"Does it matter?"_

_"Yeah, it does, if I'm just the latest in a long line."_

_And then she'd seen a flash of the anger that never seemed to leave him now. "As opposed to_ what?" __

_She almost recoiled; it was like he was making fun of her naivety, and that was horribly cruel. "I thought you and me were...but I obviously got it wrong. I've been to the year 5 billion, right, but this--"_

_He looked both angry and guilty. He obviously felt cornered into a conversation he didn't want to have, but it had been inevitable that at some point it would come to this. The tension between them was too great for it not to._

_"--no, this is really seeing the future. You just leave us behind. Is that what you're gonna do to me?" Rose went on._

_"No. Not to you." He answered almost before she could finish, but his eyes were still angry. She just wasn't sure_ what _he was angry about in that particular moment, or if it was still directed at her._

_"But Sarah Jane--you were that close to her once, and now you never even mention her. Why not?"_

_"I don't age. I regenerate...but humans decay. You wither, and you die. Imagine watching that happen to someone that you--"_

_There it was. "What, Doctor?"_

_He swallowed and ran over the moment, answering indirectly in that infuriating way he had. "You can spend the rest of your life with me..."_

_Her breath caught in her throat as he paused; she was right. He knew there was something more here or he wouldn't be saying this._

_"...but I can't spend the rest of mine with you," he finished. Somewhere during this last bit the expression on his face changed from angry to sincere but reserved. It was the closest he would come to saying it. "I have to live on. Alone. That's the curse of the Time Lords."_

~~~

She remembered feeling at the time like he was telling her his greatest secret. He'd tried to warn her.

But now. Now he could have her, and what did he have to say? Just that he was sorry she'd paid the price for saving him when he hadn't even wanted to be saved.

Absolutely. Typical.

Yet Rose knew what the Doctor really wanted, because he'd somehow found a way to make it happen over the course of one impossible day. If she could only find a way to remind him of that then perhaps he would see how useless the rest of this was--the fleeing, the loneliness. He could go on forever like that if she didn't stop this, and she refused to believe she wasn't the one who was _meant_ to stop it. He was great at building these facades and they'd always worked on other people, other companions. He was great at pretending that his best life was a solo one. He was so knowledgeable and stubborn and forceful about what he wanted, so good at erecting walls, that his companions took him at face value and obeyed his wishes. They went along because they figured it wasn't their place to argue. Rose remembered Canary Wharf, when she'd refused to leave. He'd been so _furious_ with her at first that she was afraid he might never forgive her...but three minutes later it was all Shiver and Shake and Mutt and Jeff again. When you have something real with someone, you see what's real. Unless, that is, you're too busy hating yourself and being stubborn.

She had to remind him. But how?

Rose had wandered into the library for a book after their conversation, needing the peace and quiet and a literary distraction, but once there she had fallen into contemplation. She tried to pretend she wasn't secretly hoping the Doctor would join her, and that her pulse didn't speed up when he finally entered the room. She kept her eyes averted as he studied her where she sat on a plush throw rug on the floor with her back against a shelf. 

He selected a book and settled on the sofa, sliding his glasses on and instantly becoming unbearably adorable, which annoyed Rose to no end. They were quiet for a while except for the turning of pages until he eventually spoke. "I thought maybe we could go to a craft fair. Nice easy day, see some art, buy some mulled cider. I seem to recall you like apple cider." He looked at her hopefully, but she said nothing, thinking that this was the most he'd put himself out since she'd been back on board. Guilt...was that what it took to motivate the Doctor? Maybe. He'd been in the throes of guilt when he very first invited her on board, hadn't he? Because of the war. She'd been his escape and he'd failed her. Was that all? And now he had to put it right, put this chapter behind him. Well, good for him...but it seemed a bit backwards.

Rose set her book aside, but didn't look at him. "Doctor?"

"Yeah?"

"When do I get my closure?"

The TARDIS shuddered in the vortex as though uncomfortable, but her hum didn't change. The Doctor rubbed his chin and stared at the far wall, careful not to look at her as he murmured, "It's not the same for us now, is it?"

Rose snorted. "No. To put it mildly."

He regarded her grimly. "I'm not the same as I was."

She finally looked at him. "But _why?_ Why aren't you the same?"

He deflected, as if he had any right to do that. "Why aren't you?"

She had no problem answering that; that one was easy. "Well, I'm miserable with the way things are now, for starters." She gestured with one hand, palm flat, as though indicating everything around them: the TARDIS, this room, maybe the universe. "And apparently I'm not aging...I have some sort of time energy trapped inside me like a splinter in my soul that my Doctor can't remove, so there's that. After everything that's happened...."

_My Doctor._

He set his book down on the sofa and his face relaxed. He looked very calm as he leaned toward her with his elbows on his knees. His tie was slightly askew, his voice soft and certain, but his eyes were a little sad. "No, I can't remove it. I tried the first time and I failed you, Rose, and I didn't even know it. My limitations are dangerous. I'm working on the time energy issue right now, but I realized after I lost you at Canary Wharf that my failings would cost you everything, and now I see that's been a bit prophetic." He rubbed his hands together slowly, face betraying the gravity of whatever he was about to say next. He looked around the room as though he was seeing something else. "I make promises with this ship that I can't keep...I show you everything, but I can't give you anything. Us traveling lately, like this? This is as good as it gets. I need to fix you and send you home before you forget what was so good about seeing the stars. If I could manage to wreck that for you, that would truly be a shame." He looked so sorry and wistful, as though he'd just named a fate worse than any other.

What he was saying made sense, or at least Rose knew it made sense to _him_ , but that didn't stop it from hurting. They were both broken and there was no getting back to how it was before. That was what he meant. All they were doing was saying goodbye...they were just doing it very badly.

"Well, Doctor," she said with lips that felt quite numb, "I said I wanted closure, not a consolation prize, so don't change your day plans for me. You can leave me here on the TARDIS or you can take me to Jack for all I care until you get this cure figured out. Hell, you can even bring me back to my mum, but I don't think I want to be here with you anymore. If that's closure, I guess I've got it, then." She looked into his eyes for a long moment, making sure he saw the depth of the hurt she felt. When he lowered his head she stood and left quietly. Her anger didn't even have any fire at this point; it was just as resigned as the rest of her.

***

He came to her about twenty minutes later. He didn't even knock; she just heard her door open quietly. She rolled over on the bed to face him. He leaned in the door frame and sighed, but gave her the ghost of a smile. "Are you coming out? We've landed."

If he knew how that look made her feel there was no way he'd be so cruel.

"Where are we?"

He smiled wryly. "Craft fair."

For a moment anger flared up inside of her and she wanted to tell him off. Instead she looked at him closely and saw something in the back of his eyes that told her that he didn't want it to end this way. Truth be told, she didn't either. If it was going to end it was going to end, but the one choice she had was how to remember their goodbye. This time. This time it was in their power to be deliberate about it. They were getting their chance at a do-over.

She sat up slowly. "Should I change?"

He took in her jeans and pink t-shirt. For just a moment Rose could have sworn he lingered in looking her over, but then he said, "No, you'll do," and headed for the console room.

***

They were on one of Ayla's three moons, the Doctor said. The largest one, in fact. The whole moon had once belonged to a tycoon of the entertainment industry who had since passed on and donated his satellite property to the arts. There were museums here and festivals were held any time it was warm enough.

"You've been here before?" Rose asked, her voice quiet and dull. A woman approached them with a wooden crate of fruits that looked a little like oranges but weren't. She offered them one each, no charge. Rose declined but the Doctor took one with a polite little bow and proceeded to toss his acquisition up into the air, catching it again and again as they walked, striding in that long, casual saunter of his like they were about to have a bloody picnic.

"A few times," he said when the woman had departed. He was doing his best to sound bright and carefree. "Never with a companion."

Was she supposed to feel special? Rose decided that it wasn't worth it to over-think his statements anymore.

It was a sunny day but there was a brisk wind and Rose shivered a little, glad she'd grabbed her purple hoodie on the way out. She hugged herself as she walked beside the Doctor, trying to tuck her hair behind her ears. 

The fruit smacked into the Doctor's palm again, but then he stopped and tucked it into his pocket for later, as though giving up on the pretense. "Are you cold?"

"A bit. M'fine." 

"Hmmm. Let's see. Ah, there we go. Apple cider. They've got it hot and cold, come on." He leaned with one shoulder to indicate where he was heading and Rose trailed after him, still not quite used to the fact that he never offered her his hand anymore, but glad for the first time that he didn't.

The line was very short, just a couple people in front of them, but Rose took the moment to make a request before he ordered. "Doctor...do you think we could split up after this? Just for a bit. I know you're doing something nice and all, but I sort of want to be on my own for a bit."

He rocked up on the toes of his trainers as the people in front of them left with their treats, and put their order in. "Two medium mulled ciders, please." He presented his credit stick, then turned to Rose with a tinge of concern. "You don't know this place, Rose."

"Is it dangerous?"

"Eehh...." He looked around them and shrugged. "Well, not particularly, as tourist destinations go. I guess...I guess you could do your own thing for a bit."

"Can't get into much trouble sniffing soaps, can I?"

The Doctor turned from her to take their drinks, but she saw the corner of his mouth quirk softly. "I don't know...you and your soaps and shampoos. You have a tendency to get carried away. I might never see you again."

He held her cup out and she placed her hand on it, but she didn't take it from him as their eyes met. "Never say never ever, Doctor," she said meaningfully, a biting edge to her voice.

She hit her mark. His gaze softened, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed back whatever emotion was in danger of flickering to the surface.

Rose felt the full weight of her cup transfer to her hand and she clasped it as he let go. "Meet back here in an hour?" She asked.

He nodded, eyes still on her. 

"All right then." She nodded her head off to her left and quirked a thumb in that direction. "I'll be over there, okay?"

He just nodded again, one hand in his pocket and the other holding his cup as he watched her walk away. 

Blimey. She hoped he wasn't going to just watch her like a hawk the entire time; that would sort of defeat the purpose. 

Rose chose not to look back. If she did she might encourage him. It would be just like him to finally pay attention now that she wanted him to leave her alone.

She meandered between booths, past colorful handmade dresses swaying in the air on their hangers and baskets heaped with natural soaps promising clear skin. Someone's kids ran past her laughing. Many of the beings perusing the goods around her were humanoid, but a good portion of them weren't and she was glad she'd learned not to stare a long time ago. It wasn't rudeness; she just couldn't help being fascinated. She remembered how much the Doctor had loved taking in her expression when they'd first traveled together. Everywhere they went he'd point things out to her, so excited just to see her reaction. It was as though he got to see everything again for the first time through her eyes.

Rose slowly drank her cider; it was extremely good, not overly sweet. It did serve to warm her a little. The memories helped a bit too, to be honest. She had to try to hold on to the good part of all this and not let him "wreck it." He was right. He always bloody was. She just hated that he seemed to be telling her how to let him go. Did he even need to dictate her grief? When and how it happened? It was so _aggravating._ Not to mention patronizing.

Rose turned in a little circle, finally daring to glance over to where she'd left the Doctor, but thankfully he was nowhere to be seen. Geez, though, there were so many booths...how would she ever find what she was looking for?

"You're a tourist, aren't you?" asked a musical voice to her right. 

Rose started slightly, but smiled at the woman, who had olive skin and long dark hair. She was dressed in a light cotton top with thick, watery bands of blue and white and yellow alternating, and matching, loose-fitting trousers. "How could you tell?"

"The way you're dressed," the woman said, and winked. "That, and I just have a sense about these things."

Rose smiled. "Am I on one of those planets where everyone's telepathic again?"

The woman laughed lightly. "No. It isn't that. Sensing and knowing aren't the same." She held her hand out, and Rose shook it. "I'm Selena, an informational guide."

Rose was amused. "For a craft fair?"

Selena gave her an are-you-serious look, eyes wide and brows raised. "Have you taken a look around? This place is enormous. I'm just one guide of many. I'm here to help you in case you're looking for something specific. You might never find it if you wander aimlessly, and these citizens pay to set their booths up here. It's my job to help them turn a profit."

"Ah," Rose said. "Makes sense. I'm sorry if I sounded rude. My name's Rose."

"Oh, not at all," Selena said, flapping a hand. " _Is_ there something I can help you find, Rose?"

Rose looked around, feeling nervous. She wasn't sure what might be forbidden on this planet and she really wasn't looking to get locked up. "Uhm. Well, I see a lot of really nice handmade goods but...."

Selena was smiling patiently. "Anything." She gestured with open hands. "Name it."

She took the plunge. "Do you know where I might find something a bit more...whimsical?"

Selena brightened and snapped her fingers. "I know just where you need to be. Come with me." She offered her arm and Rose took it with a grin; people were apparently very friendly here. Nice change from being cooped up with the Doctor. 

They walked for a bit in companionable silence. Selena's skin was warm from the sun and she smelled nice, a bit like baby oil. Her flip flops made a summery sound on the dusty path they took.

"Aren't you cold?" Rose asked. "Bit nippy here for such a sunny day."

"Oh, I'm from Ayla...the main land, in case you didn't know. That big pink planet. It's quite cold there compared to this. I can feel that I run quite a bit warmer than you do; this isn't so bad for me. Where are you from, Rose?"

Rose hesitated, then decided to throw caution to the wind. "Earth."

"Oooh," Selena said, a slight crease appearing between her brows. Rose knew that look; the universal look of cluelessness. Probably hadn't ever even heard of it. That was...oddly refreshing. She was used to being an enemy--or at least disliked for being human--most places she and the Doctor went.

"It's lovely," Rose said simply, "but really far from here."

Selena nodded and pulled her to a gentle stop. She pointed through the booths on their left to the next row over. "Cut through. That's where you'd like to be."

"Oh, great. Thank you so much," Rose said. Something occurred to her and she held up a finger. "Hang on a tick." She rummaged in her bag and pulled out a few coins: universal currency. She tucked them into Selena's hand and the woman smiled. 

"Thank you, Rose. Lovely to meet you. If you need help finding your way back you won't have to look far for another guide."

Rose nodded in acknowledgment. She and Selena parted ways and Rose cut through a narrow space between booths to get to the next row over, tossing her empty cider cup in a bin on the way. Already she could smell incense: lovely, thick incense, completely intoxicating. Well, it seemed that the mystical had that in common everywhere. She half expected to start seeing Jin Chan statues and gargoyles and crystal balls, but there was nothing of the sort. Her eyes widened in amazement as she passed by booths lit with strange fairy lights and gravity-defying devices. It was all very impressive. She didn't know where to start, but then she saw the woman staring at her from a booth ahead and to her right. The woman had long red hair and calm green eyes and was looking at her as if she'd been expecting her. 

"This is the last thing I'm ever gonna do for you," Rose promised under her breath. "Take it or leave it, Doctor. I love you too much to keep doing this."

Feeling wary of being scammed, Rose made her way over to the booth. There weren't many people browsing in this section and those who were looked skittish, as though they were up to something.

"Are you looking for anything in particular?" the woman asked in a smooth, warm voice. 

"Uhm," Rose said. "I'm not sure, exactly. Maybe you could help me figure it out?"

"What is it that you need?"

The woman was looking at her so serenely that Rose felt herself relax a bit. She was just about to ask the woman's name, but suddenly it was floating on the tip of her tongue: Agnes. Rose's eyes widened and Agnes laughed softly. 

"Don't worry. Parlor tricks. It's a psychic field that grants basic information about my shop, sort of like a mental business card; it doesn't go both ways. I am sensitive, but not telepathic."

"You seem like you've been expecting me," Rose said, rubbing her left elbow with her right hand, feeling a bit silly suggesting it. "Were you?"

The woman nodded. "I expect many people. I expect many situations to present themselves when I'm here selling my goods. If you've arrived, you needed to be here. It's as simple as that; we can help each other."

"Help each other?"

Agnes burst out laughing at Rose's guarded tone. "Goodness, sweetheart. What's happened to make you so suspicious? I don't know where you've been travelling, but there's nothing to fear here. I only meant that you need an item, and I am looking to sell. So please." She gestured with one hand. "Tell me what's troubling you."

Rose nibbled her bottom lip. She was here; she might as well take the plunge. "I have a friend who's forgotten something very important, and I need for him to remember it."

Agnes nodded slowly. "Is this more important for him...or for you?"

Rose stared at her, not sure how to answer that. She debated for a moment, but in the end all she could think of was how _happy_ they'd been. Would it really be selfish to show him that he didn't have to be alone? Who knew how much longer he might live, and he'd deny himself a lover for how long? Forever?

"Both of us," she said, and Agnes smiled at her as though she'd given the right answer in class. Rose felt her stomach lurch with nervousness.

Agnes turned and rummaged in a wooden barrel full of little drawstring sacks of all different colors. She drew out a gold one and gestured for Rose to open her hand. Rose complied, and Agnes tucked the bag into her palm and folded her hand closed over it. "These are wolf stones," she said. "They're meant to restore the mind. You just--"

"I'm sorry, what are they called?" Rose interrupted quickly, her eyes searching the other woman's.

"Wolf stones," Agnes said. A puzzled look flitted across her face. "Something the matter?"

Rose shook her head. "Wolves are...sort of significant to me, that's all."

"Ah." Agnes nodded. "All the better. The wolf is your companion animal. Well then, this is perfect--synergistic even. You take these stones and you drop them into a beverage. It's very important that you both drink at the same time, because this is going to open up a pathway between you. He won't consciously be aware of it."

"He's a telepath, though," Rose said.

Agnes shook her head. "Even so."

"I won't be violating his privacy, will I?"

Agnes shook her head again. "No. These don't give you any power...you won't have the ability to 'see.' Wolf stones are cunning. They sense your intent, and then they hunt. You understand? They fetch the intended message and they bring it back."

"I think I understand," Rose mumbled, not certain at all.

"Your friend...what happened to him that he lost his memory? Was he in an accident?"

Rose hesitated, but ultimately nodded. That was basically what it was, if she listened to the Doctor's take on it. An enormous accident. "Yeah. He was. An' it was my fault."

"I'm sorry," Agnes said, and squeezed Rose's hand, which she was still holding closed over the bag. "These will help you make it right."

"How much are they?" 

Agnes named a nominal price.

"I thought they'd be much more expensive," Rose said, surprised.

Agnes shrugged. "You need them, and I have plenty more."

Rose paid and tucked the little bag into her pocket. "You're certain these are safe?" She pressed. "They can't backfire and hurt him somehow, can they?"

Agnes looked a little worried at this question. "Only if he doesn't want to remember what he's going to remember, sweetheart," she said. "So you better make sure you understand the targeted memory."

"I do," Rose said. "I really do."

She smiled gratefully at Agnes and turned to find her way back to where she was supposed to meet the Doctor. "It hurts me every day," she murmured.

***

Rose tried very hard not to look guilty as she approached the Doctor.

"Well?" he prodded. "Did you have a good time?"

Rose smiled and nodded, tucking her hair behind her left ear. 

"Find anything good?"

Rose held out her left arm so he could see the decoy bracelet she'd bought, a delicate silvery thing with purple stones. It would probably seem odd if she hadn't bought _some_ thing, and she did actually like it.

"That's nice," the Doctor commented, actually bending closer to look at it. _Boy,_ Rose thought, _he really_ is _trying._ She knew he couldn't care less about jewelry.

"What about you?" she asked. "You find anything good?"

"I found a few parts for the TARDIS. Bits and bobs. And um...." he shrugged and scuffed at the dirt as though embarrassed, "a tie or two."

Rose couldn't help but smile. "I can't even imagine you clothes shopping."

He made a noncommittal sound and shrugged one shoulder. 

"Let me see," Rose said, still smiling. 

The Doctor rolled his eyes but pulled a paper bag out of his coat pocket and rummaged in it. He drew out two ties, one red and one brown. The red one had a snaking, silver floral motif, very subtle. The brown one had little diamond patterns on it. Rose traced her finger over the brown one and felt a pang of sadness bloom in her chest, wondering if she'd ever see him wear them. 

The moment of silence stretched out a little too long and their eyes met again. Rose pulled her hand back. "I like them," she said. He said nothing, just looking at her again like he had before she'd left him to look for her "whimsical" purchase.

A breeze picked up and the ends of the ties flapped in the air. The Doctor wound them over his hand and slid them gently back in the bag. The bag disappeared into his pocket once more. 

"Shall we find something to eat?" he asked lightly.

"Yeah, let's see what they've got."

***

"Wow," Jack said.

"I know."

"Where is he right now?"

"I think he went to take a shower."

"Okay, maybe this is the wrong time, but can we just take a moment to appreciate that thought?"

Rose smiled. "Come on. All this is difficult enough without remembering him naked, okay? I'm still in love with him."

Jack laughed triumphantly and Rose felt her cheeks flame. "All right," he said when he was done howling. "Okay." She could almost feel his struggle to get serious. "First of all, Rose, it's not as bad as all that. Living for so long. You're a better person than I am; you won't have to regret half the things you've done like I do. You have a great life ahead of you no matter how long it is."

"Yeah, well, you _would_ say that just to make me feel better. You don't have to be nice about it." Rose was lying on her stomach on her bed, absent-mindedly picking at the hard tip of a feather poking from her pillow as she talked to Jack. She pulled the feather out slowly and then ran her fingertips over the pillowcase searching for other bits to pull as though determined to pluck the thing. "I know I have some nerve coming to you about this."

"Stop blaming yourself," Jack scoffed. "I'm fine, I'm happy. And I want you to be happy too. I say do it; he wants you the same way you want him, Rose."

"Maybe before he regenerated," Rose spat, hating the tightness of her throat and the tears that threatened. "You haven't seen what's going on here, Jack. He can hardly stand to look at me."

Jack's voice was tender, all seriousness now as he whispered, "Come here, then."

Rose took a deep breath and let it out slowly, considering the merits of that suggestion. Jack was a friend and he was going to be alive for...well, a very very long time, and so was she, potentially. At least she wouldn't be alone. She couldn't go back home and live a normal life now that she wasn't aging; she'd risk putting the people she cared about in a very uncomfortable spotlight in this age of known alien activity. She could work with Jack though, and maybe rent with him, whatever, and maintain a sort of anonymity. He was good at the Torchwood stuff: he knew how to hide. He was practically the face of the Torchwood brand in that way. Jack was very charismatic as well, and his invitation held a sort of danger to it. 

A danger she ultimately wasn't willing to entertain.

She closed her eyes. "I don't know what I'm gonna do yet but it's really nice to know you'd be there for me." She hoped her statement made her reservations clear...in a gentle way.

"I'll tell you what you're going to do," Jack said firmly. "You're going to make him come to his senses."

"I think you overestimate my abilities."

"I think you _under_ estimate your seductive powers."

Rose laughed.

"Hey," he said, and she could hear his smile. "I'm not kidding. The Doctor doesn't fall for just anyone, Rose. I should know. I tried, and I'm damn near irresistible."

"Yes...yes, you are. You're right. I haven't thought this through."

"I knew you thought so," he gloated. "In all seriousness, though, what are you waiting for?"

"You've heard of this, then?"

"Yeah. Wolf stones have been around forever. If you'd told me this before I would have brought you some myself."

"He wouldn't like it if he knew."

"By the time he knows he'll be nothing but grateful."

"I hope you're right."

"You'll do it, then?"

Rose squeezed her eyes shut. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll do it. I may end up hating myself for it, but...I will."

They both fell silent for a while.

"You know where to find me," Jack said eventually, once again using that soft tone. 

"Yeah," Rose whispered. "Good night, Jack."

"Good night, Rosie. Good _luck_."

***

Rose stared down into the two cups like a deer staring into oncoming headlights.

_"You're going to make him come to his senses."_

_"This is going to open up a pathway between you. He won't consciously be aware of it."_

_"Is this more important for him...or for you?"_

She pulled the little gold bag from the pocket of her hoodie and opened it, upending it so the two stones slid into her hand. They looked a little bit like Tiger's eye. Rose mentally braced herself and slipped one into each cup. She waited for them to fizz or pop or do something obvious, but nothing happened. She stirred each cup with a spoon and watched as the stones dissolved.

_Jack said it's safe._

Jack did some really reckless things sometimes, but he wouldn't place her--or the Doctor--in harm's way, so she took a cup in each hand and headed to the console room. 

The Doctor looked up from where he stood in front of the view screen with a panel of buttons pried open. He appeared to be cleaning something on the inside. "Oh, tea? Thanks, that's brilliant." He smiled. Though it wasn't his old smile, Rose felt an unbearable mix of love and guilt at its appearance. She walked over and handed him his cup, then went and settled on the jump seat.

He blew into the panel and squinted at something. 

"Thanks for bringing me out today, Doctor," Rose said. "I appreciated it. It was nice to get some air without running for our lives."

The Doctor shook his head. "Don't thank me. Really. For anything." He lifted his cup to drink and Rose quickly lifted hers to do the same.

He swallowed and a strange look crossed his face.

"Something the matter?"

He looked in the cup, a crease in his brow. "It tastes...."

"Did I not get it right?"

He smiled at her again, this time reassuringly. "No, it's fine. See?" He drained his tea and Rose followed suit with her own. She couldn't taste anything funny even once she got to the bottom, but then, his senses were superior...as he'd so often pointed out without a modicum of modesty. He looked at her with some amusement as they both set their cups aside at the same moment. 

Rose shrugged and smiled. "Thirsty."

The Doctor seemed on the verge of saying something, but then stopped. "Don't you want some sleep? It's late. We did a lot today."

"Yeah, soon. What about you? Will you sleep?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I think I will." He gestured at her with his sonic as she raised an eyebrow at him, and they said in unison, "No nightmares."

He laughed. "Agreed."

Rose impulsively stood and went to him. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. He did nothing for a moment, but then, slowly and stiffly, one of his arms curled around her and he patted her back awkwardly. Rose pulled back, letting her lips drift across his cheek gently. "'Night, Doctor," she whispered, and then turned without looking at his face--she didn't want to know what was there--and took their cups to the kitchen to wash them.

***

Nothing.

She'd felt nothing when they drank, nothing after they were finished. He'd seemed equally unaffected. How long was it supposed to take to work? She'd imagined something instant, something tangible on her end.

Rose paced back and forth in her room, biting her thumb nail, tempted to call Jack again and ask if he knew. She hadn't asked enough questions, gotten enough details...she'd just acted hastily. She felt so anxious she doubted she'd get any sleep.

Fifteen minutes later her body betrayed her, her eyelids drooping as she brushed her teeth. She rinsed her mouth out and went to her bed, feeling pleasantly heavy and warm with exhaustion, surprisingly relaxed. The Doctor was right--they'd done a lot. She must have walked at least five miles throughout the course of their time at the craft fair. They hadn't talked much, but they'd eaten cotton candy and watched the sun set and done any number of things she once would have considered romantic, only now there was this vast abyss between them. It was like they were living in a hollow memory and both of them knew it. It actually sort of made a mockery of what they'd once had.

What they'd once had.

Maybe that was the point; maybe telling her wasn't enough. He wanted her to understand now how empty all of it was.

***

In the dream Rose was walking somewhere dark and unfamiliar. She was barefoot and felt like she was being led, though she didn't know who or what by. She reached out and searched and her hands finally hit a wall. She continued to walk sideways, cautious, figuring as long as she held onto the wall she might be okay, might be able to place where she was. She was frightened.

"Doctor?" she called, hoping he was nearby. She listened hard and began to realize she could hear a faint hum. _TARDIS, if you can hear me, give me light,_ she thought. 

A slow glow filled the space she was in, and she could see it was a long hallway. A TARDIS hallway. She was still on board the ship. _Can you show me the Doctor?_

Rose's eyes widened as a set of glowing footprints appeared on the floor and seemed to begin walking away from her. She followed them quickly, down the hallway, down a set of stairs, another hallway, through a darkened room that was empty except for a discarded bed shrouded in cobwebs, then through a doorway and across a bridge over running water. She knew she was dreaming but it didn't change the dreamlike quality of the TARDIS' contents. It was like a stroll through someone's guarded thoughts. The footprints disappeared and Rose became frightened; the TARDIS was a large, strange place, and she wasn't confident that anyone but the Doctor could find their way around. _Please don't let me get lost,_ she thought.

And then she saw him. Abruptly she could walk no further, though she could see no impediment; it was as though her feet were glued to the floor and there was an invisible barrier in front of her. Even if she screamed she doubted he could hear her.

They were in a large, cold room, and the Doctor was at the far end doing something by the wall. She could only see him from behind but he seemed to be turning something.

 _Time safe,_ something whispered in her mind. Rose realized with absolute amazement that the TARDIS had just spoken to her.

 _What's he doing with it?_ she asked, but there was no further answer. All she understood was that whatever she needed, it was in that safe.

She watched the Doctor as he exited through a door to his left without ever noticing her.

***

Rose opened her eyes in the dark with a little gasp. She sat up and listened to the hum of the TARDIS. Everything else was quiet.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" she whispered. She knew the answer to that, though; she'd spent long enough witnessing the Doctor's connection to his TARDIS to know just how far his mental connection with the ship extended past the operative level. It was a mutual thing and the old girl could be very protective of him; he wasn't ready to remember what he'd forgotten.

"Please understand," Rose went on. "At least let me give him the choice, yeah?"

There was nothing for a while, and then Rose felt an affirmative pulse in her mind. She smiled. The TARDIS had always liked her well enough, but it was very rare that they communicated this directly. She pulled her slippers from under her bed and put them on.

***

There were no glowing footprints this time, just Rose moving through the darkness with a questioning touch, listening to the pitch of the TARDIS' hum. She let herself be guided by it and by the soft mental nudges of affirmation or negation she received from time to time.

The route looked very different from the one in her dream, but then, the TARDIS was a constantly changing thing. She had her own rhyme and reason, but it really was like walking through a mind with its own memory and seemingly illogical tangents. Rose passed through a beautiful atrium with a glass ceiling and meandering paths. Some of the trees had twinkling lights wound around their trunks and balls of flowers hanging from their branches. Stone stairwells spiraled to other levels of greenery. There was a sense in the room that the life here was going on peacefully, content to be left on its own. She could easily see the Doctor at home there. She had to be ushered along by the TARDIS because she couldn't stop marveling at the beauty of it, in particular the sight of a blue nebula with a halo of yellow, orange, and green flaring above her like an inky flower in the darkness of space.

She left reluctantly, sad that she couldn't exactly mention to the Doctor that she'd seen this place unless everything went well. She might never come back.

 _No,_ she thought, remembering the grim look of fear and determination she'd glimpsed in the Doctor's eyes as he'd led her from the Christmas dinner. _Once he remembers it'll all be okay._ She held resolutely to the hope and descended farther into the TARDIS. She once again passed through the room with the dusty, abandoned bed. At one point she stopped to look at a coat rack hung with numerous hats: an Astrakhan, a stovepipe, a fedora, two Panamas. An overly long striped scarf draped itself haphazardly over two of the arms like a limp snake. Rose fingered it gently, a smile tugging at her lips, trying to imagine the Doctor wearing any of it. Maybe he never had; maybe they had belonged to former companions...but there was something distinctly Doctor-ish about each item.

Another adamant tug in her mind led Rose to continue. She felt that she had been walking for at least an hour when she passed through a cave whose ceiling dripped with violet stalactites. They seemed to effuse the air with a soft light and she touched one curiously. It was as cold as ice, slippery under her palm. Again she was blown away at how gorgeous everything was. She wondered if the Doctor ever visited these places at night while she slept; why he never shared them with her. If he had ever shared them with anyone.

Rose came out the other side of the cave and abruptly found herself in the room with the safety deposit drawers. The...what was it? The time safe room. Apprehensively she went to the one she'd seen the Doctor open in her dream. There was still a key in the lock.

And no way would the Doctor be so careless. The TARDIS wanted her to open it.

Rose's eyes clouded with tears. "I knew you'd understand," she whispered, and turned the little key. It popped the lock with a satisfying, well-oiled tumble. She pulled and the little door swung open easily, white light spilling out. Rose backed away instinctively as a memory of looking into the Time Vortex suddenly flashed though her, but then she realized that this was something else. Very slowly she reached in and wrapped her fingers around the object they encountered.

She pulled it out gingerly and looked at it. It was a small wooden box with golden hinges. It felt light. She hesitated, wondering if she should open it, but received such a strong pulse of _NO_ from the TARDIS that she actually jumped. 

_Okay then._ "Doctor's eyes only," Rose said aloud and licked her dry lips, eyes wide. "Got it. But what is it?"

The TARDIS sent a rush of memory flooding through her mind, and suddenly she was crying. Their day. Their day was somehow trapped inside this thing. When the rush abated Rose realized she was clutching the box to her chest tightly as though hanging on for dear life. "How?" she choked. 

There was no response.

It didn't matter. What mattered was that she had her solution and that the TARDIS had helped her; the ship wouldn't bring her to this solution if it was dangerous. Rose locked up the safe again and went back the way she'd come, her hands sweating so much that she had to rub them on her pyjamas time and time again to maintain her iron grip on the box. On her return trip nothing was as it had been: she did not see the cave or the atrium, but she would have sworn she made it back to her room a little faster than she'd made it to the time safe. Then again maybe that was just a change in her perception now that she was practically burning with nervous energy. Regardless of her emotional turmoil she fell asleep quickly, curled around the box as she used to curl around her teddy bear when she was young. For the first time in a long time her subconscious was silent; there were no bad dreams.

***

She got out of bed and showered, never letting the box leave her sight. She got dressed and did her hair and put some very light makeup on before heading to the kitchen where she was met by the sight of the Doctor with wilder-than-usual-hair, as though he'd been playing with it a bit too much, maybe in a fit of anxiety. She eyed him curiously, but he just smiled at her and leapt up to fix some fresh tea for her. "Good morning."

"Good morning, Doctor. You sleep all right?"

He nodded, but he seemed on edge and kept his back to her as he fixed the kettle. "Yeah, I slept all right. You?"

"Interesting dreams, for sure," she said. "What sort of tea are you making?"

"Apple cinnamon. Sort of reminiscent of our cider, I know, but I suppose that's the point. It was a good day, wasn't it?"

Rose didn't want any bloody herbal tea, and she wanted the Doctor to stop pretending he was getting back to his old self. She literally felt like she'd throttle him if it kept up.

"I suppose," she conceded. "Have you got anything black, though?"

"Oh. Mmm. I might," he said, and reached up to rummage around in a cupboard. He came up empty-handed. "Sorry, I suppose not." He readied the herbal tea and brought her her cup. "It's worth noting anyway that caffeine actually speeds up the perception of time. All this time we spend here having breakfast could seem just that much shorter."

Something inside her suddenly broke. She was exhausted and afraid of what he'd do when he remembered what she needed him to, and all of her emotions suddenly came explosively to the surface. It was as though, now that she could transfer the pressure to him, the lid had blown off her feelings. She glared at him stonily. Her tone was quiet but dangerous as she asked, "Oh, really?"

He looked surprised at the venom in her voice.

Rose sighed heavily, squeezing her eyes shut, and pushed herself back from the island, sliding off her chair. "You don't get to do this."

"Do what?"

"Are you a bloody moron or what? How can you be so cruel? You've had me on a string ever since I met you. You _want_ me, you _don't_ want me, you infer, you flirt, and you _push_ me away!"

He stared at her, frozen in place as though unsure how to react.

"And this." Rose waved the box at him. "I can't live with this anymore."

His eyes were riveted on the box. "What is that?"

Rose slapped it down on the island. It made a hollow sound. "It's something life-changing, yeah? And all you have to do to get rid of me forever is open it. Then you come back to me and tell me that you're done with me. If you can do that then I'll get my closure, Doctor, 'cause that's my answer. If you can open this and still want to find a way to fix my aging _problem,_ then come and find me and I'll do it in an instant, and gladly. For now I want you to bring me to Mum's like I suggested you might yesterday."

He took a deep breath, settling into his chair at the island, covering his mouth with one hand. He reached out with the other hand and she saw that it was shaking as he placed it on the box. His voice tremored as well as he asked, "Really, Rose...what is this?"

"No, I told you. You figure it all out. I'm done. You've finally pushed me away, congratulations." 

He just stared at the box, his eyes so frightened that she had to harden her heart the way it seemed he'd hardened his against her. 

"Let me know when we've landed," she said, trying her hardest not to let her voice break as she turned from him.

***

When Rose heard the knock on her door she thought to herself how glad she'd be not to have to deal with the constant arguing and apologizing anymore.

"Come in," she called in a tired voice.

The Doctor came in looking rather wilted. "I was going to tell you over breakfast, but I didn't get the chance, so I'll just spit it out. I think I could have you normal and home within a couple of weeks."

"Thought you were taking me home right now."

"We're parked a couple blocks away from the estate. But you don't have to go yet. Not until we get this sorted."

She was tired of the double entendre, tired of wondering if he meant for there to _be_ a double entendre. "We are never going to get it all sorted, Doctor. You just feel bad that you don't want me around anymore, so you're letting me hang on. I'm like a band-aid. You aren't ready to rip it off, but I'm the one who's coming away bloody."

He cringed. "Rose. I took your life away. I just want a chance to give you your normalcy back. I owe you that. You've been a wonderful companion and...I can't send you off like this, a stranger in your own world."

Rose nodded. "And yet I've made things worse for you. I'd be a bit of a hypocrite if I accused you of ruining my life, wouldn't I."

"Haven't I, though?" he asked quietly.

"Doctor...." Rose took a deep breath and then said it. "The Bad Wolf bit, the not aging bit...that's the least of what you've done to me."

He hung his head. "Okay."

Rose snorted. "Okay? That's all?"

"Yeah."

"You know, for a while I was under the impression that we wanted a nice goodbye this time."

He didn't respond.

"I'm gonna walk out those doors now, Doctor, and I'm going to leave you with that box. I'm also gonna give you this to think about: it's great you protect everyone, yeah, but I think that sometimes you forget where your duty ends and free will begins. You may be smarter and have been around longer than me, but I'm still the best authority out there on what I need. Did you ever think it might have been someone's job to save _you_ , Doctor? Because I don't know if I'm capable of doing that, but I'd have a hell of a better chance if you'd _let_ me try. What I need is not 'to be safe....' If that's what I wanted I never would have come with you in the first place, and if it was what _you_ really wanted, with all your brains and your 'time sense,' you never would have come back for me that first time. Sometimes we get to go back and do things over and sometimes we don't...and that's for a reason, and you know that."

He looked up and gestured for her to come closer. She rose from her bed, unfolding her left leg from under herself, and went to him. He pulled her into a gentle hug. "Goodbye, Rose Tyler."

She choked back a sob angrily. She pushed away from him and gripped his shoulders. "Promise me you're gonna open that box."

"I'll try," he said, but his gaze slipped from hers.

She sighed and released his shoulders. He watched her pack a suitcase, his eyes tracking her progress between the closet, her dresser, and her luggage. When she'd finished he followed her out to the door and leaned against the frame on one shoulder. She walked away from him down the sidewalk toward her mother's flat, all pink and yellow, a breeze bouncing her hair as she moved briskly. 

If she had turned around she would have been surprised at what she would have seen in his face, but she didn't. For the first time Rose Tyler wasn't even tempted to turn around and look for the Doctor.


	14. Show Me Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story is finished! I've split the last chapter into two parts though because it was very long. (Sorry!) The second half will go up very soon. Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed and stuck with the story through all the angst.
> 
> Disclaimer: I relinquish all responsibility for Jack and anything he does/says. He wrote himself. Really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And because this story could only end with Snow Patrol.

_I can't be as sorry as you think I should_  
_But I still love you more than anyone else could_  
_All that I keep thinking throughout this whole fight_  
_Is it could take my whole damn life to make this right_  
_This splintered mast I'm holding on won't save me long_  
_Because I know fine well that what I did was wrong_  
_The last girl and the last reason to make this last for as long as I could  
_ _First kiss and the first time that I felt connected to anything_

\--Make This Go On Forever, Snow Patrol

 

_You could be happy_  
_And I won't know_  
_But you weren't happy  
_ _The day I watched you go_

\--You Could Be Happy, Snow Patrol

 

_Are we star crossed lovers?_  
_Did I really want you gone?_  
_If I'm really a winner  
_ _Where do these demons come from?_

\--Mirrors, Ellie Goulding

***

As the TARDIS doors opened, across the street from the Torchwood Three building, Jack was already striding forward to meet the Doctor.

"Hey, Doctor! Wow, when I said I hoped you'd look me up some time I never expected you to take me up on it." Jack pulled the other man into a bear hug and to his credit the Doctor bore it rather well, even hugging him back to some extent.

"It _is_ nice to see you, Jack, but I wish I could say this was purely a social call."

"Awww man, I knew it. Too good to be true, right?" Jack asked, releasing him to look him in the face.

"Yeah. I need your help with something." The Doctor looked exhausted, maybe even a little lost.

Jack snorted. "Well, you really know how to let a girl down easy," he teased, and then straightened and turned his head to give the Doctor a sidelong look. "Actually, you _don't_ know how to let a girl down easy, and I should really punch you in the face for that. Can I punch you?"

The Doctor sighed. "You talked to Rose, I see." He tucked his hands into his pockets.

"Uh, yeah. She needed a friend. And don't you _dare_ have the nerve to blame her for it. I love you, Doctor, but you're in serious need of a kick in the balls."

"Well, I'll let you be the one to grant it if you'd like, but do you think we could do it inside so we can get down to business afterward? This _is_ related to Rose."

Jack looked around them, then slung his arm around the Doctor's neck to hustle him inside the building where they could talk privately. Once they were safe in the confines of his office, door closed so his coworkers couldn't overhear, Jack gestured for him to have a seat. The Doctor pulled the box from his coat pocket as he sat, regarding Jack gravely. He placed it on the desk.

"What's this?" Jack asked, picking it up and turning it gently to get a good look at it from every angle.

"That's the problem. It's some sort of time box. I know that, and I know that it belongs to me--whatever's inside it--but I can't open it."

Jack's eyes widened and he quirked a brow, pausing in his examination. "I'm sorry... _you_ can't open a time box? You, as in a lord of time, cannot open this box, but you want _me_ to."

"That sums it up."

"Why can't you open it?"

"Master problem solver here, Jack. If I knew _why_ I couldn't open it I wouldn't be here."

"Where did you get this from?"

"Rose."

Jack set the box down and leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. He gave the Doctor a long look that was both skeptical and thoughtful.

"Okay, what?" The Doctor asked. "What does that look mean?"

Jack half-smiled, craftily, as though he had some gruesome creature right where he wanted it and was about to wring the right information out of it. "Do you _want_ to open it?"

The Doctor just stared at him, confused. "That's why I'm here. It isn't easy for me to come and see you...you know how you make me feel."

"Mmm. He finally admits it," Jack said, leaning forward with a wink. "I knew you were conflicted, Doc."

"Ugh, don't call me that," the Doctor said, a little annoyed. "You know what I meant."

"Unfortunately, I do," Jack conceded. "But more to the point. Do you _want_ to open this box, Doctor?"

"Bloody hell Jack, why wouldn't I?"

Jack tapped a pen against his lips and leaned back again, casual, like he had all the time in the world. "What did Rose say when she gave it to you? Did she tell you where she got it?"

The Doctor looked thoroughly perplexed. "No. She didn't. She just said that she was tired of living with it and that if I could open it and...wait, did she tell you about the aging bit?"

"She did."

Shame and embarrassment warred on the Doctor's face for a split second, and Jack didn't miss it. He was pretty happy to see it, truth be told.

"She said that if I could open it and still want to fix her problem then she'd...she'd get closure and we could put everything behind us."

"Oh man," Jack said, and shook his head. "She used _those_ words? Well, first off, let me tell you what was particularly illuminating about that conversation, okay?" He dropped the pen and drummed his fingers on the desktop. "She called it her _problem_ and you believed her. She doesn't feel like it _is_ a problem, Doc. You do, and she knows it. That says a lot more about you than it does about her."

"The TARDIS doesn't translate 'cryptic,' Jack. I don't follow."

"I will never come to you for relationship advice."

"Please don't."

Jack smiled, and the Doctor couldn't help but return it. Jack jabbed his pen at him. "You should have been doing a lot more of _that_ , right there, that thing you're doing with your face with all the muscles pulling. If you could just have appreciated what was right in front of you, like I told you to, we wouldn't be sitting here right now."

The Doctor looked away, fixed his eyes on his trainers. "I couldn't give her what she wanted. I never could. You know that."

Jack sighed. "Then why are you here?"

They locked eyes again, and the Doctor's looked so sad and uncertain that Jack decided to stop joking around.

"Okay, no more questions. Except for that last one, which you _still_ haven't answered. You are the master of evasion, anyone ever tell you that? Rhetorical question, by the way. So, do you want to open it or not? Considering that she inferred everything rests on what's inside that thing, _do_ you?"

The Doctor's gaze landed on the box and lingered, his expression changing to something Jack could only think to describe as resentment. 

Finally, he shook his head. "No. But yes. I just...I just want to do it. I need to. Right?"

Jack realized, with some amazement, that the Doctor needed permission. "Yeah, Doctor. You do."

"So...how do we go about it, then?"

"Do you want a drink?"

"I...what?"

"Would you like a drink?" Jack swiveled in his chair and stood, going to a metal cabinet in the corner. He opened it and pulled one of several bottles off the bottom shelf. "Something to take the edge off?"

Actually, he did. The Doctor nodded.

"Where's Rose right now?"

"At her mother's."

"How did you feel when she left?"

The Doctor, who was already slouched down in his chair in defeat, turned and tucked his lips against his fist in silent refusal.

"Oh wow. You're actually pouting right now. You really are impossible. I see why she left. I don't know what's going on with you, but this...this isn't the Doctor I knew." Jack sounded let down.

The Doctor's chest was so tight he felt like he was breathing through a straw. "I can't do it again, Jack, that's all."

Jack said nothing more, just poured them each a shot and placed one in front of the Doctor, resuming his seat. He lifted his glass in the air, and the Doctor turned his eyes to his friend's as he likewise raised his. They clinked without clarifying what they were toasting to and simultaneously downed their shots. 

The Doctor made a hard face as if he'd just swallowed a lemon. Or maybe a pear. "Hypervodka."

"Only thing guaranteed to fuck you up."

The Doctor rubbed his face with both hands, fingers curling through his fringe, and let out a huge, exasperated breath that let Jack know he was finally going to loosen up. "You know...maybe that's what I need." His hands came down, slapping his thighs, his eyes rolling upward. "Human pursuits."

Jack nodded, looking more than a little satisfied. "Now you're talking."

***

Some time later the box was wearing a party hat and Jack and the Doctor were crying...with laughter.

"So I told the pizza boy that if he couldn't handle sausage then maybe he better stick to pepperoni."

It was horribly inappropriate and vulgar, but the Doctor still clutched his own leg and leaned forward, laughing airlessly, past the point of being able to make actual sound. When he finally caught a breath he choked on it and wiped his eyes. He was on his fifth shot. Jack gestured at it and without hesitation (but looking humorously pleased as though he'd forgotten it was there and was eager to discover it) the Doctor lifted it, arm swaying unsteadily, and drained it.

"Come on, Doc, you must have some stories."

"Uh uh," he said sloshily. "I don't care about...." he gestured with one hand, but couldn't come up with anything better than he ordinarily did. He blinked, eyes held shut for several seconds as he rooted for a term and finally pulled his best one to the surface. He opened his eyes and blurted articulately, "...That."

Jack laughed uncontrollably and the Doctor narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "What?"

"You can't even say it."

"I can so," the Doctor scoffed.

"I think you'd need five times as much of this," Jack said, waving the bottle and nodding mockingly, "to even admit you know how it works, much less say it."

The Doctor muttered something, pulling his grumpiest face.

Jack cupped his ear. "Say again?"

"I...I can talk about _sex,_ Jack," the Doctor grumbled, his voice dropping on the one word as though it was something top-secret.

 _"Please._ You've never even been tempted to do it."

The Doctor shrugged one shoulder, removing a paperclip from Jack's desk to toy with it, eyes averted.

"People who don't kiss and tell occasionally are boring," Jack said, swinging his legs up to rest his shoes on the corner of his desk. He eyed the Doctor shrewdly. "Didn't you ever want to throw Rose down and...what is it the Brits say...snog the life out of her and then some?" He was playing coy of course. He already knew the answer, but his ancient and sexually repressed friend didn't need to know that.

The Doctor was quite focused on his paperclip, but he smiled a very small and very telling smile.

"See?" Jack pointed, looking smug. "You _did_ want to."

"All right!" The Doctor burst out, nodding exaggeratedly at him. "Fine, yes, of course I thought about it. She's gorgeous."

Jack looked like he would explode with triumph.

"But," the Doctor quickly added, "don't you dare tell her I said that."

"But now that you can have her, why wouldn't you? I just don't get you."

The Doctor's expression sobered, but he apparently had the opposite intention because he pointed into his shot glass to indicate Jack should refill it, which he promptly did.

The Doctor drank, this time swallowing the shot down more slowly, lingering, and set the glass back on the desk reluctantly, rolling its bottom edge around, toying with it. He was very quiet when he spoke again. _"I can't fix her, Jack,_ I _lied._ I told her to stay a couple more weeks because I thought maybe in that time I could come up with some sort of way to tell her the truth." He looked sick with himself. "I can't protect her from anything. I never could."

"She'll forgive you."

The Doctor's eyes flashed, but not at Jack. _"I_ don't forgive me."

"Well, it's not up to you," Jack said gently. "Get off it, Doctor. She loves you."

"But that's exactly the point, Jack. I've been alive for over nine hundred years now. I've spent the majority of that time trying to help people. I've made mistakes, many of which I can't forget, but the intent was to always do what I could to keep a balance. Then the Time War happened and...I destroyed my people in an attempt to wipe out the Daleks and put an end to everything. I will never stop seeing that when I close my eyes. Ever. But Rose made me better, I told myself I would _do_ better...and if she represents everything I've ever strove to protect...then she also represents my absolute failure."

Jack sighed heavily. "I can see where you're coming from, but...in all this trying to protect her life, you've disregarded two vastly more important things."

The Doctor looked wary, but said nothing.

Jack counted off on his fingers. "The first is the life she _wants_ to lead. You just can't believe that would be a life with you. Well, it is. Accept that already. The second is that in trying to protect her humanity, you're forgetting about her _heart._ That's where you've failed, Doc. You haven't protected that at all. You've broken it. Don't you know that?"

The Doctor sniffed in a self-deprecating way. "Yeah. I suppose I do." He shook his head. "Jack, I couldn't even look at her without being reminded of how I'd failed her at first. That was bad enough, before I realized I couldn't fix her. I've never wanted anything as much as I've wanted her. Believe me, I _do_ understand the significance of this. She's everything I wanted to protect and I couldn't do it. And even if not for that I could never choose Rose because she would be used against me any time we were in danger. If I loved her less I would keep her."

Jack said nothing, but looked somber. After a couple minutes passed them by he refilled their glasses. The Doctor looked for a moment like he might refuse his drink, but that look was short-lived.

"I've done a lot of things over the years. People have been killed because of me. Willingly sacrificed themselves, even. Sometimes I think I regenerate because I just need to forget and get away from my mistakes. Running away is in my DNA, it seems. Even you, Jack...you're my fault. What's happened to you."

Jack shook his head.

"Don't say no. I am."

"And look what I do now for a living. Willingly."

"Yes but, _you can't die._ Maybe if you could you'd be living normally."

"Um, have you forgotten that I was time travelling before this immortality shit started?"

The Doctor had nothing to say in response to that. He finally answered with a non-sequitur. "She told me off royally."

"Good."

They finished their drinks again as if in toast to that.

"I don't know what the right thing is," the Doctor admitted. "If I stay away from her it'll cause her pain, and if I try to make it work I'm a selfish git."

"Be selfish. Make her happy."

The Doctor reached out and knocked the hat off the box. He stroked the wood with his fingertips. "How do I fix all this?" He seemed to be asking himself.

"You don't," Jack said. "It's a mess." He leaned toward the Doctor and locked eyes with him. "Run with it."

***

The drinking hadn't stopped there. The Doctor wasn't certain _where_ it had stopped, exactly, but he had a vague memory of insisting on opening the box. Jack had taken it away, telling him to wait until the following day.

The Doctor was not feeling so good. He focused on all his systems, slowly detoxing himself. He looked around and tried to figure out where he was, eventually working out that he had never left Jack's office; he was lying on the couch, and quite scrunched at that, it being a bit too short for him. He still had his coat on and everything. "Uuugh," he said, just as the door opened.

Jack came in with two cups of coffee. "You're a lightweight, Doc."

The Doctor rubbed his hands over his face and spoke through them. "How are you not hung over and I am?"

"I have more practice. Here, have some coffee."

The Doctor made his way into a sitting position and took the cup. He gazed into it for a second and then laughed contemptuously to himself.

"Something amusing? I'll have you know Ianto made that. No one makes a meaner cup of coffee than Ianto."

"No," he said. "I was just remembering something utterly stupid I said to Rose. It was what made her snap that last morning."

"Oh, I have to hear this. What was it?"

"I told her that it was just as well I only had herbal tea because caffeine speeds up the perception of time. I told her black tea would make our time together feel shorter. She thought I was playing with her."

"It does sound that way."

"It slipped out. The truth has a way of doing that I suppose. I didn't really _want_ her to leave, Jack."

"Hmm." Jack raised his cups to his lips, then paused to add, "That really _was_ stupid."

"Yes, yes. My stupidity has been profoundly established," the Doctor said, without a trace of defensiveness.

"So what are you going to do about all this now that you've slept on it?"

"Was that what I was doing? Felt distinctly like a blackout."

"You were unconscious. Basically the same thing."

"Well, in any event...I don't know."

"Well..." Jack picked up the box and looked at him suggestively. "There's no time like the present to find out."

The Doctor just stared at it, so Jack walked over and traded the box for his cup of coffee, and then set about closing all the blinds in his office. "I'm going to give you some privacy with that."

"We still haven't figured out how to open it," the Doctor said, scowling with annoyance.

"Yes we have," Jack said gently. "You want to open it, don't you, Doc?"

He nodded. Yeah, he really did. More than anything, actually. 

"The lock was in your mind."

The Doctor looked up sharply. "What? How do you know that?"

"Call it a hunch." Jack winked at him, leaving the Doctor with the distinct impression that this wasn't the first time his friend had encountered something like this. "Just...go for it. I'll be right outside if you need me."

As Jack walked out without further ado, shutting the door behind him quietly, the Doctor felt his hearts begin to race and his stomach fill with acid. 

He held the box for a long few minutes, shaking. When he finally tried to open it he almost fumbled the thing onto the floor. He calmed himself as much as he could and tried again.

***

_How, how, how could I forget?_

The Moorsies' gift; Laura and Jennifer and the Vortex vultures (who were surely what caused him to decide to lock these memories away after his next regeneration so he'd push Rose away and not have to remember); taking the box and locking it away in the time safe. 

No wonder he would want to forget this...he'd never counted on Rose knowing about it. When had she....

_Oh._

"She'll remember when she needs it the most," the Moorsie had told him. The Doctor hadn't understood that statement at first, had only been puzzled by it, but eventually he'd come to understand that Rose would most need that memory in the event of his death. Not just his regeneration, but his actual death.

And he'd died on the Crucible. She'd remembered, probably even as she was resurrecting him, only to find that he'd forgotten. The memory had been too big a burden for either one of them to deal with on their own.

All this time he'd been pushing her away she'd been remembering something he would have never believed it was possible for him to forget.

"I'm such an unbearable coward," he whispered, angrier at himself than he had ever been. "Oh, Rose...."

He never would have thought it was possible for her to remember that day while he was alive, that she would lose her mind from the paradox. But she wasn't technically human anymore...not completely. Bad Wolf had done what it always did: it had brought her back to him. For better or worse.

***

The universe, in one of its odd acts of symmetry, had allowed Jackie to move back into her old flat at the Powell estate. She was supposedly dead, but this was handled easily enough; never one to shy away from an elaborate yarn she found it simple enough to explain to people that she and her family had fled, too traumatized by the strange alien events to have anything to do with their old life for a long while. People seemed to understand and accept her explanation, many having apparently felt the same way themselves for a while.

So now here they were, Rose smiling in all the right places (though with a lack of heart that her mother did not fail to notice) as she sat curled on Jackie's new couch with her legs tucked under her and a plate of biscuits between them, some trashy talk show on the telly in the background making it all feel like old times.

Jackie had somehow managed to stay away from immediately grilling Rose when she showed up on her doorstep looking resolute but emotionally exhausted, dark circles ringing her eyes. She had shown concern, of course, but they were easing into things. On the inside Jackie felt ready to burst, hoping Rose would get around to the point soon herself. Finally she did, picking at her fifth biscuit as though she'd rather deconstruct than eat it.

She shook her head sadly. "He just couldn't handle it, Mum."

"Maybe he just needs more time?" Jackie suggested optimistically, but more for her daughter's sake than out of any belief in the idea. She raised her eyebrows and dipped her head, trying to get Rose to meet her gaze. Unsuccessfully.

"I gave him plenty of time," Rose said, her tone brooking no argument. "He just can't. It isn't in him. He's not human. I went and forgot that plenty of times, and this is where it's gotten me. I've only got myself to blame."

Jackie scowled and leaned back, wishing the Doctor would appear so she could string him up by his tie and give him what-for. "Rose, it isn't worth blaming yourself for what any man does. Have you forgotten Jimmy?"

To her surprise Rose looked up quickly, her eyes flashing. "No, Mum. Don't compare him to Jimmy. I don't care what else the Doctor is...he isn't that." She made a disgusted sound. "Jimmy wasn't human either, but in an entirely different way."

"I'm sorry sweetheart...I just can't help it. I'm angry at him."

"Well...I am too."

They sat quietly for a moment. Jackie didn't want to push further, so she asked, "More tea?"

"Yeah please," Rose said quietly, and Jackie went to put the kettle on again. 

"So," Jackie finally said, careful not to turn around. "Are you going back to Torchwood, then?"

Rose hadn't yet told her mother about the not aging bit, but mused now to herself that she'd have no choice but to go back even if she hadn't wanted to. Fortunately, she did want to. And she needed their help figuring out her problem. She'd just have to work on it in secret. She wouldn't tell her mother that she couldn't fix the issue until she was certain...even if that had been the Doctor's own game.

"Yeah, reckon I will," Rose said. "If they'll have me here."

"Oh I'm sure they will. More than sure. Jack'll move heaven and Earth to get you in, not that he'll have to. They've already accepted Pete into the fold."

As though suddenly realizing, Rose looked around. "Mum, where _is_ Pete? Where's Tony?"

"I texted Pete when you showed up. He was out with Tony and I asked 'em to stay away for a bit so we could have some girl time." Jackie came back with the new pot of tea. "I might have a new little one, but you're still my daughter."

Rose smiled gratefully, her lips quivering a little. "Thanks, Mum."

Jackie waved a hand at her not to be ridiculous, and they silently drank their tea for a while.

Eventually, not taking her eyes from the telly, Rose let her head fall against the back of the sofa with a sigh. "I still love him," she said quietly. "I'm so angry at myself for it, but I do."

Jackie patted her knee. "I know, sweetheart. I know." She wished she could tell her daughter that it would go away eventually, but she'd seen the way Rose looked at the Doctor. Time didn't heal all things...sometimes it just softened them.

***

The Doctor was a wreck. He hadn't stopped staring at the empty box, which was open between them, for about forty minutes now.

"You need to talk to her," Jack said.

"She's never going to forgive me."

"Maybe not."

The Doctor swallowed. "I don't know where to begin."

"Start with hello."

"Anything I can say at this point will just be words...." The Doctor rubbed his face with both hands. 

"Words are good," Jack encouraged. "Start there, you know, and...woo her."

The Doctor gave him a withering look. _"Woo_ her?"

Jack smiled. Yeah, it did sound a little funny. "Sweep her off her feet. Do something unexpected."

"This isn't a romance movie, Jack. I can't just waltz in and fix everything. I'll be lucky if she even comes to the door."

"Yeah, and don't you forget that. Even so, you need to go with a plan."

The Doctor ran both palms over his trouser legs, looking terrified and nervous as hell. "A plan. Right. I always have a plan."

"I'll help," Jack said reassuringly.

The Doctor's look suggested that he didn't take much comfort in that. Jack was pretty sure that underneath it all, however, he was grateful.

***

Four days had passed and Rose had given up hope. She had kept busy helping her mum with Tony, but she could only put the Doctor out of her mind for so long. He'd likely opened the box by now and was hiding somewhere, horrified. He'd gotten rid of her and now he figured he should just stay away.

Rose needed something productive to do, so she phoned Jack and asked if she could come and work, but he shot her down. Little did she know that she was cutting Jack off at the pass.

"I think you should take some time first," he said. "Don't rush into things. It's okay to relax a bit."

"The last thing I wanna do is sit here."

"Don't sit, then. Go out with friends."

"Like you, maybe?" she suggested, arching an eyebrow. 

He only hesitated a moment, as though caught off guard. "Sure, why not? What were you thinking of?"

"Mmm...."

"Okay, well, I'll name the time and place. How's that?"

"Thanks," she said, relieved. "I really need a distraction, Jack. I mean...I'm all right and everything, but I can't just sit here and think. I love Mum but she's already starting to fret over me and it's driving me mad."

***

Rose felt more than a little trepidation when it came to meeting Jack in the park for a picnic. Though she loved him dearly and would value his company right now because he was maybe the only person she could really talk to about the Doctor without any judgment, she couldn't really help but wonder if maybe he'd misinterpreted the situation. A picnic seemed a bit...intimate, somehow. Lunch anywhere else would have been much more their style. But...she hadn't known how to say no. Her idea was to play it casual and cool.

When she got to the park, however, her plans were blown out of the water.

It was a gorgeous spring day; the temperature was just the right side of cool and breezy, all the buds in the trees new and tender. It had been raining a lot recently but so far today there was no sign of a cloud in the sky, just the slight feeling of dampness in the air as everything unfurled and grew. What was that term for the smell of earth just after a rain? Petrichor. Funny word, sort of other-worldly. She'd read it in a book the other day and now it wouldn't leave her mind. She'd been reading a lot since arriving at her mother's flat...pretty much in every spare moment of down time not spent sleeping. Some nights sleep was difficult, especially since she was on the couch. With the four of them in the flat and no spare room things were rather crowded. Rose missed her old bed, the one she'd slept in regularly before she went off with the Doctor, but that was long gone.

Rose rounded a curve in the path and then diverted toward a tree at the top of a gently sloping hill. This was where Jack had asked her to meet him. As she drew closer someone stepped out from behind the tree...and it wasn't Jack.

Rose stopped short.

The Doctor slid his hands into his pockets and licked his lips, hardly able to meet her eyes. He looked as nervous as she felt, like he might bolt any moment. After a moment of visible floundering, he spoke. "I really hope you're not disappointed I'm not Jack."

Rose turned as if she might leave, looking back along the path, but her eyes returned to him. She didn't make to move in any direction. 

"I'm sorry we lied to you, Rose, but I knew that if I asked you myself you wouldn't come. Please sit with me."

It was mad, after everything he'd done, but there was part of Rose that was amazed to see him standing here as if it was just any regular day and he was any regular bloke, and she sort of wanted to throw herself at him. She just wasn't entirely sure if throwing herself at him would end in a hug or some furious slapping. He certainly only deserved the latter.

"I've got a rather nice picnic here...it would be a shame to waste it," he went on when she didn't move. Then, quietly, "Please, just...sit. Even if it's only to say goodbye."

That got her to move, but she didn't bother to hide her irritation or how exhausting she found the whole situation to be. 

She came to the edge of the blanket he had spread out and he had to stop himself from pulling her to him to crush her in a hug. He backed away a step, respectfully, and she sat down unceremoniously on the blanket cross-legged.

He lowered himself to the neighboring corner, perching on the very edge. He watched her anxiously, but she just looked at the spread before them.

"Are you hungry? There's a lot here. Jack helped me put it together." He looked over the spread himself and acknowledged, "We may have gone overboard."

"That was nice of him," Rose muttered, grabbing what seemed to be some type of sandwich made from a buttermilk scone. "Not nice of him to trick me, though."

"Don't hold it against him, please. It's my fault. I went to him for help."

Rose bit into the sandwich and a puzzled expression crossed her face. "What _is_ this?"

"Oh, um, that. That's curried chicken salad with grapes, pistachios, and cilantro."

"It's ace." Rose licked one of her fingers, and the Doctor began to get the distinct impression that he was going to be ignored in favor of eating. He supposed the only way to handle it was to keep talking.

"Thanks. Just a recipe I wanted to try. I um...oh, would you like something to drink?"

Rose nodded wordlessly, chewing, focused entirely on the food. 

The Doctor reached into his basket and pulled out two bottles of lemonade, handing one over to her. She dove into it, but he sipped his without much interest. Then the corners of his mouth twitched in a faint smile and he said, "Rose."

"Hmm?" She swallowed and finally looked at him, wiping the corner of her mouth with her thumb. 

He reached over and grabbed a tupperware container and opened it to show her the contents. Inside were half a dozen pastel-colored cupcakes topped with edible ball bearings.

She seemed to take her eyes off them with some difficulty. "That was sweet of you," she said quietly.

He set them aside, covering them once again, not having expected a big reaction. He had seen that they'd had some effect, and that was something, at least. "So, Jack helped me...open the box."

Their eyes finally met, and Rose stopped chewing, hardly managing a swallow. She saw a good many things in the Doctor's gaze, and none of them were indifference. The sandwich she'd been eating suddenly felt ten times heavier in her stomach. 

She tried to feign nonchalance as she asked, "Yeah? And?" But her eyes were still giving her away.

The quiet spun out around them for a long minute or so as they simply looked at each other. Birds called as they dove from tree to tree. Behind and slightly above them on the path two women power-walked past, chatting. Light traffic flowed along a street somewhere near.

"How did you manage it?" Rose said, her voice hardly more than a whisper. Subconsciously she wiped her fingers on her jeans.

"I was on a mission," he said, pulling his knees up and circling his arms around them. "I stopped these creatures...the Moorsies...from being sold into slavery. They thanked me by offering me a day...just one day...outside of time. With anyone of my choice." He felt strange putting it into words.

"Sounds a bit reckless," Rose murmured.

"It was, I suppose...." he looked down the hill, watching people walk along a street on the other side of the fence below. "I was in a reckless place."

"You thought I'd never know."

He shook his head. "I knew some day you would. In the event of my death, when the paradox of both of us remembering something that technically never happened couldn't destroy your mind. If, that is, I died in your lifetime...."

Rose seemed to mull this over. "But," she finally said, "if you knew I'd remember once you died, well...I mean how would I...how would I know? If I hadn't been there and seen it, if I'd just...been out at the movies or shoppin' with Mum...."

"Once I realized that you'd only remember when I died, I worked out several ways to get a message through to you." He evaluated her expression.

Her eyes went wide. "A message? If you could contact me, Doctor, why didn't you before?" She was visibly angry.

"We had our goodbye. I still couldn't get to you. Would it have helped?" His tone was soft, expression wistful.

She shook her head, obviously overwhelmed by all this information. "I still don't understand why I can remember now, when you _aren't_ dead. And why Jack knowing doesn't hurt him."

"Well, you're not exactly...human anymore Rose. You're something else. Your mind is different. It can withstand the conundrum...fortunately." A look of profound fear crossed his face and Rose knew he was considering that things could have ended much differently. "As for Jack...it's just a story to him. He didn't live it. That's a bit different."

She focused on her bottle of lemonade and picked at the label. "Quite a gamble."

The Doctor shook his head. "I didn't see it as that. I didn't realize. Not until it was held against me."

"How do you mean?"

He looked at her thoughtfully. "I...could show you. If you want."

He thought that she would ask how, but she only moved closer to him. He felt his chest constrict as she grew near; he could smell the warmth of her vanilla lotion, her floral shampoo.

He raised his hands, but hesitated. "Okay?"

She was solemn as she answered, "If you don't, I'm never gonna understand you. And considering how you've broken my heart I think I deserve the chance."

He swallowed. She thought she'd never seen him look so pained, but she wasn't about to comfort him.

"Show me everything."

"Everything?"

She nodded. "It's the only chance you're gonna get."

He didn't hesitate any longer. He gently brushed her hair back, taking more time than he needed to in tucking the golden strands behind her ears. She bore it, but if she felt anything tender her eyes didn't betray it. That was okay. He knew he didn't deserve her tenderness. Satisfied that he could establish uninterrupted contact with her, he settled his fingertips on her temples and they both closed their eyes.

*****

_To be continued very soon!_


	15. Show Me Everything II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is it: the end of the story. I hope that you've enjoyed it and that you'll tell me what you think. I had a lot of fun writing it. :)

_I am covered in skin_  
_No one gets to come in_  
_Pull me out from inside_  
_I am folded and unfolded and unfolding_  
_I am colorblind_  
_Coffee black and egg white_  
_Pull me out from inside_  
_I am ready, I am ready, I am ready,_  
_I am fine_

\--Colorblind, Counting Crows

 

_Under your spell again_  
_I can't say no to you_  
_Crave my heart and it's bleeding in your hand_  
_I can't say no to you_

\--Good Enough, Evanescence

***

The first thing she saw was her own face, twisted with anger in the infirmary. "You're just angry because you felt like a failure and you wanted to die," she accused, and Rose actually gasped aloud when she felt the Doctor's emotional response to her words: he'd felt caught out, remorseful. He'd felt _longing_ , as though he would have rather been anywhere else. For the first time in his long life he felt that he had failed completely and was past redemption. After seeing his friends on the Crucible, witnessing the things they were willing to do, and seeing how he'd put Rose herself in danger, all he could see was his own destructiveness.

She felt the way he'd mourned her after losing her at Canary Wharf, and unbeknownst to her she began to cry, her tears wetting the Doctor's wrists.

She saw herself in the mirror at the Hill's house, felt his resulting rage.

She saw him sleeping on the left side of the bed in the hotel on Kor Kistra, breathing in the scent of one of her stolen shampoos, one she had forgotten she'd ever owned but which he remembered distinctly and had chosen carefully.

She felt his sadness and hope at the Moorsies' proposition, his complete inability to back away from it...how for the first time in his long life all he could see was his own sadness and the fear that this time he might not make it out. 

The way she met his eyes the first time he entered her, and what it had meant to him.

She saw Laura and Jennifer and the vultures, knew his guilt at the knowledge that as long as he loved Rose she could be held against him and used to hurt others. His acknowledgment that Torchwood was his fault. His resolve to stop acting human. 

She was with him when he vomited for the first time, felt his stomach turn inside out.

She stood inside him, felt his tremulous hope as he looked at her after his regeneration before the events on the Crucible and hinted, "Handiest hand ever," wondering if she remembered their day...though of course she hadn't.

She felt his death, his resulting peace...and saw her own eyes (her eyes but not) greeting him as he woke. She witnessed it feeling a mixture of his fear and her own, mixed with his horrifying disorientation, and she jerked back slightly beneath the Doctor's hands.

On their picnic blanket under the tree, the Doctor leaned in and rested his forehead against hers in an act of comfort, and she stilled.

She saw his memories coming back to him, but out of order...all save their day outside of time, which hadn't come back at all. She saw the torture he felt living with her when she wouldn't go home, felt how difficult it was for him to maintain the pretense that he didn't want her as much as ever. "I have traveled," he'd said, "for so long. Doing this. _When will it be enough?!?"_

She felt how his heart broke in the alley when he pushed her into the alcove and kissed her and she tried to pull him in closer. Felt his anger and frustration as he resisted giving in to her.

And then it all rushed together into a jumble of images: the two of them in the kitchen at breakfast over the last few weeks; the way he'd stare at her hair when she wasn't looking; how empty his hand felt without hers in it; his fear and guilt when he realized that she wasn't aging and that...he couldn't fix it.

His happiness/guilt/relief/shame/self-hatred/anxiety when he realized he couldn't fix it. His determination to find a loophole. Every moment he'd spent trying to fix it while Rose was otherwise occupied.

"I'm sorry," the Doctor began whispering without breaking their connection. "I am so, so sorry, Rose, I'm unforgivable, it's unforgivable...."

She saw his dread when he'd realized what he'd forgotten. The sinking knowledge that there was no way he could make it up to her occurring alongside his absolute desire to let her know what she'd always meant to him. 

Suddenly there was a blackness, a blankness. Her mind swam for a moment, and as it cleared she heard his voice. _Now you show me._

It took her a moment to find her mental voice; she was still swimming in his thoughts and feelings. _Show you what?_

_Everything I did to you._

Under the tree, Rose raised her own hands and touched his temples without realizing she had done so.

The hurt was so fresh and Rose wasn't a telepath, didn't have the ability to control the flow or pace of her thoughts the way he did, and so it all crashed down on him at once in a perfect representation of how overwhelmed she had been.

Her excitement when she found him again. Her desire to die when she saw him struck down by the Dalek. He was surprised to feel that bit, and he hated it. He saw it so clearly and was so struck, for a moment, by the urge to die himself that he forgot he wasn't Rose. 

He felt how the psychic block of memory had hit her in the wake of his death, felt it as a human would feel it: the pain and the breathlessness of it, the swell of happiness and arousal followed so sharply by grief that the two were almost indistinguishable as they culminated in her act of restoring him. He felt his cold reception of her, watched as he systematically set about sending his friends home and tried to get rid of her.

He lived through the rejection she'd felt, the despair of living in a parody of what she'd once felt for him: all the excitement and anticipation of her old nights on the TARDIS wondering what sort of adventure they'd have the next day and how she couldn't wait to feel his hand clasp hers because that was what made running away worth it. He saw the emotional roller coaster he'd put her on, her frustration and anxiety over the fact that he couldn't ever let her decide for herself, couldn't take her at her word...as though she was not his equal, but less than him. He saw how distant he'd been. Saw himself throwing the sterile urine cup at her, saw the look on his face as he compared his companions to pets.

He winced, felt his heart breaking all over again.

He felt her realizing that he didn't remember their day together and latching onto that with a thin hope. Saw her acquire the Tiger's eye, felt her trepidation when she called Jack to ask about it. He saw her slip the stones into their tea, saw her last morning with him all over again. He saw her love. He felt her desire for him. Really _felt_ it.

And then he felt her decision to leave him.

***

Her fingers came away from his temples first, as though she had scorched herself. Their breathing was labored. They opened their eyes and both looked surprised to find the other so close, and she moved to pull back at the same moment he moved to hold her.

"No!" she cried, pushing her hands against his chest as he tried to draw her in. "You don't get to! I'm not your plaything, Doctor!" 

He just gaped at her, uncomprehending, so she drew in a breath and slapped him as hard as she could. 

He let go of her and fell back on one hand, his free hand going to his cheek. There was no surprise or anger in his face as he scooted back to give her some space.

"You're like a little boy," Rose said, still struggling to breathe normally, her chest heaving. Her finger trembled as she pointed at him. "You and your...jam, and your running away, and your acceptance of me but only on _your_ terms and only _after_ you've lost me. I can not and will not do this anymore with you."

He was still rubbing his cheek, but she could see in his eyes that he was accepting every word.

"I can't have this be the greatest love of my life and have it end like this. I can't look back on this for the rest of my life, feeling small and lucky as I remember when I traveled the stars with you. You could've had me, Doctor, so many times. But you were blind. You're alone, and you're always gonna _be_ alone because you don't know _how_ to love. And I feel sorry for you. Because you know what? _You're_ small. Not me. At least I know what I felt and I wanted the bad with the good."

He nodded silently and closed his eyes. When it seemed she wouldn't continue he finally spoke. "If I could make one plea, Rose, it's not for you to forgive me...just for you to hear me. I'll say it once and...well. I knew that wanting to keep you was foolish...that it wasn't safe for anyone. Pushing you away hurt me just as much as it did you, but it went beyond you and me. I didn't know what else to do these last weeks...I thought I could give you closure by making you want your old life more than you wanted a life with me. This is what I do--I hurt the people who love me. The people I love. I've done awful things to my own planet. You know that--I've told you that. But you...you're better than me. You're a hero. You can do great things for your world with Torchwood. And I'm supposed to hold you back for what? For me? Someone who can't even give you a normal life?"

Rose laughed sarcastically and threw her arms out in frustration. "You are so fucking stupid! It's like you don't hear a word I say. You're all science and math but you can't even think _logically._ You want to give me up so I can go on doing what we do, _without_ you, the person I'm safest with. It just doesn't make sense. But wait," she said, eyes widening with mock realization, "I see--you just can't handle it if whatever happens to me is 'your fault,' yeah? Let me explain what happens in the real world: people marry. They get new jobs and move their families across the country, but they don't blame each other for the incidental things that happen when they get there--the dog getting run over in the street, or whatever. They try to have children together and there are miscarriages but the wife doesn't look at the husband and tell him it's his fault. You see where I'm going with this? Even if you didn't want me like I did you, you just had to _tell_ me. But you never said that...you just hinted that you did but it could never be because blah blah blah, and I thought _stupidly_ that I might be able to convince you it was possible...but all you did was _crush_ me rather than let me go. I don't even know you anymore and I'm not gonna lie down and be a doormat for the man you've been pretending to be lately. Because it's bullshit, and I'm better than that. You used to _treat_ me like I was better than that. In fact, I'm pretty sure you would have told me to steer clear of anyone who treated me the way you've been recently." 

"You're right," the Doctor said quietly. He was beginning to tuck everything back into the picnic basket. 

Rose watched him, seeing everything that came next in her mind. He'd finish packing all this up and she'd walk off down the path back to her mum's, crying no doubt, and he'd glance back at her and then shut himself in the TARDIS. She'd hear that sound, the sound she'd dreaded so many times wondering if this time she'd be left behind, only this time it would be her choice. He'd fly off alone and maybe some day she'd catch a glimpse of him somewhere, but likely not.

"I...." her voice caught in her throat on a sob, and she couldn't continue. 

He winced, but didn't look up at her. He was the picture of shame. He looked like he would disappear into his coat, his shoulders were so drawn up toward his ears. He began to pack away the cupcakes but dropped the tupperware suddenly and put his hands over his eyes.

Rose emitted a strangled cry as she grabbed him and did the only thing she could: she kissed him. He flailed for a moment, thrown off balance, and caught her awkwardly. He was all angles and uncertainty. "I hate you," she whispered between kisses. "I hate you so much, how could you do it to me?"

He folded his arms around her swiftly and she was surrounded by him, by his coat and his warm cinnamon smell. She could taste lemonade on his lips and the salt of the tears he'd cried when she'd shown him how he'd made her feel. He kissed her back gently and she could feel the sorrow behind it; his lips stayed closed but soft, gently pulling at her own. He cradled her head with one hand and stroked the side of her face with the other, splaying his legs out so he could pull her into his lap and against him to comfort her. "Rose," he murmured when the kiss broke, resting his cheek against hers to nuzzle her, his breath ghosting across her skin. He seemed too affected to say much else.

She circled her arms around his neck as he rubbed her back, her forehead resting against his neck. She was shaking, and she fought to calm her anger. "I don't understand you." 

"Neither do I," he whispered in agreement, still stroking her. His hand slid along the underside of her arm until he found her hand. She watched as his fingers intertwined with hers, curling around them tenderly. They sat for a minute and there was no sound except for the occasional sniffle from one or the other. When he spoke again it was still with a whisper.

"I vowed I would find a way back to you, but I never did. You found me, and I still failed to reach you."

"What made you change your mind?" she whispered back after a moment, when she could get the words past the lump in her throat. 

He stroked the side of her index finger with his thumb. "The world is always going to be evil...the innocent will always be targeted...something I love will always be at stake. I told you that when you've been around as long as I have that everything is quite simple but...as Jack pointed out...I was missing the simplest things of all: that the only thing that matters is love. That the only thing of any consequence is breaking Rose Tyler's heart. And when you walked out the other day I just knew I couldn't bear it again, but I thought I _had_ to. I didn't give you any say and I should have. I don't expect your forgiveness...I don't deserve it and I know that. I just had to let you know how sorry I am. But I can't help but hope you might forgive me because I don't know how to consider the alternative. The first time I took your hand, Rose, I told you to run." He squeezed said hand softly in his own. "Now all I want is to ask you to stay."

She leaned back in his arms and he looked down at her. She could clearly see everything he'd said written there: he didn't expect to be forgiven, but he wanted this to be more than goodbye. She took a breath, not certain what she was going to say until she said it. "You can't ever do this to me again. You can't ever push me away."

He shook his head quickly and desperately, immense gratitude and guilt playing across his face. "No more. I promise." He bumped her nose softly with his as though testing her words, and she responded by kissing him so lovingly that when they eventually separated he murmured, "Jack's gonna have a field day."

This time, when their lips met, they were both smiling.

***

They ended up staying and finishing the picnic after all, still tentative with each other, still raw. They made stilted conversation, each privately wondering where their relationship could be headed next and if the other could really be willing to try to make it work.

After all these years, all the back-and-forth and losing each other, they found it more difficult than anything to believe that they might be able to decide their own fate together. This explained why there was still an air of tension surrounding them as they packed everything up and stood to leave, their hands meeting between them like there had never been a time when they didn't.

"So you've been with Jack this whole time?" 

The Doctor nodded. "Yeah."

"I'd pay good money to see what that was like."

He chuckled. "I'm sure you can imagine."

"Even so." She grinned and swung their hands between them. After a moment she looked down and stared and swung their hands again.

He noticed, and leaned in to bump her shoulder with his, still smiling softly himself. "You okay?"

"Yeah. This is nice, is all." He swept the inside of her hand with his thumb and she shivered. "I missed you touching me."

They said nothing for a bit, the unintended memories provoked by her words making them both suddenly shy. The Doctor gently swung the picnic basket back and forth in his left hand as they walked leisurely. The sky had darkened a bit and soon enough Rose felt something cold hit the top of her head. She looked up just as it began to rain officially. She pulled her light jacket tight around herself. "Where'd you park the TARDIS?"

The Doctor set the basket down on the ground and, instead of answering her, pulled her close in one elegant motion and slid his arm around her waist, grabbing her right hand as though he'd dance with her. He leaned his forehead against hers and smiled playfully. 

Rose laughed. "Really? You're gonna do the cheesy romance movie thing?"

"You love the cheesy romance movie thing," he growled playfully, and she giggled. He spun her out in an awkward twirl and then pulled her in close again. "So, Miss Tyler," he said, "were you planning on travelling this summer?"

She hummed in thought, drawing her brows together as though she hadn't given it any thought. "Well, I _did_ meet a very handsome man with a _great_ vehicle. And hair to match. Kinda thought I might see what he had planned...." she shrugged one shoulder, unable to resist giving him her tongue-touched grin.

He nodded, staring at her lips. "Is that right? Well, if he has any sense at all he'll be sure to whisk you away before I do."

"Oh, well, let's hope not," Rose said, her eyes wide with alarm. 

The Doctor was all for being silly, but really he was completely amazed that she was still willing to joke with him, so he bent to kiss her again to check that he wasn't losing his mind. This time their kiss was warmer, but he let her take the lead on it and set the boundaries. He felt her nails scratch the back of his neck lightly and it sent a shiver through him that she felt. She broke the kiss off with an amused grin. "Okay. TARDIS. It's really beginning to rain."

He took her hand again and they ran full-tilt for the phone box, which they could now see at the edge of the park. The Doctor hadn't taken any chance in parking it too close and scaring Rose off before he even got a word out. He'd never for a second imagined he wouldn't be returning alone. They both ran inside, however, and the door shut behind them. They laughed as they dripped, both shedding their coats and tossing them over a coral strut. 

"Oh man, I could use a towel," Rose said, wringing her hair out to illustrate her point.

He held up a finger and dashed away, leaving Rose to herself for a moment. She glanced around the console room, breathing deeply, a glow spreading through her chest that was elated and sorrowful all at the same time. She couldn't help but feel the sadness that accompanied their reunion; a sense of having traveled a great distance from where they'd once been, then back to each other again a little worse for wear. But at least she felt certain now that it would pass.

As Rose turned, losing herself in nostalgia, she neglected to pay attention to her surroundings. Suddenly a towel was draped loosely over her head from behind and she was grabbed and tickled mercilessly. She screamed with laughter, but he quickly turned her in his arms and raised the towel from her eyes with a smile. "Let me." He rubbed her wet locks gently and she closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling. Finally he folded the towel down and used it to lasso her in closer. He kissed her face softly all over. "I'm sorry," he breathed.

"Let's stop that for a while, yeah?" Rose asked, pulling gently on his tie. 

He pulled back and nodded, an insecure hesitancy filling his face, and she suddenly realized he thought she meant the kissing.

"No, not that," Rose said, pulling his tie a bit harder, causing him to stumble back to her. "I meant the apologizing. I know...I was in your head back there."

"Yes, but...." he reached his hand up and swept his thumb across her temple. "I was in yours, too."

"Okay, then," she said, her gaze flickering between his eyes and his mouth. "There are other ways to apologize, though."

She felt him stiffen a bit. Immediately she felt stirrings of anxiety in her stomach.

"Rose, I...you don't have to...after everything I did wrong, I wouldn't...."

She let out the breath she was holding. "Doctor?"

"Yes?"

She raised her eyebrows and shook her head and said teasingly, "Shut up." Her hands were already busy loosening his tie.

He was both entranced and flustered. He watched her nervously but didn't try to stop her again. Nor did he make any move to free of her of her clothing. He simply stood, swallowing nervously as she unbuttoned his Oxford. 

"I've an idea," Rose whispered, sliding her hand into his shirt and across his chest. 

He closed his eyes. "What's that?"

"Let's pretend it never happened. Everything after our day until right now." 

As nice as it sounded, the Doctor couldn't stop the intense guilt welling up inside of him. He grabbed her wrist gently, not to stop her, but to show his reservation. "I don't know if I can."

Rose stood on her tiptoes to reach his ear, insistently sliding his shirt down off his arms as she whispered, "I need this, Doctor. Don't waste time."

That broke the spell of his paralysis. His eyes fluttered open and he bent to kiss her neck, which was oh-so-available to him, pulling her against him. He slid his hands down to cup her bottom, but his touch was all tender; there was nothing obscene, nothing rushed or frantic like when he was first with her. This time he was too busy proving that he knew there was more at stake. He left a trail of warm kisses up her neck until he reached her earlobe, which he sucked softly into his mouth. 

Rose released a needy breath and pushed him back gently so she could lift her shirt above her head. He helped her, his hands sliding along her sides as the fabric was stripped away. Her blonde fell down in a tumble when she was freed from the garment, and in another moment he had her bra unclasped. It fell to the floor as he wrapped one arm around her and pressed her against his chest. They were both overwhelmed for a moment at the skin-to-skin contact, both of their lips parting, but then he kissed her again and this time it was all slowly sliding tongues and wandering hands. 

"Did you miss me?" she managed to ask.

"Are you joking? More than I've ever missed anything," he whispered, his right hand gently working at the button on her jeans. 

Rose ran her hands up, through his hair, then touched his temples again so he could feel how much she'd missed him. He wasn't expecting it and his hand froze; his entire body froze. He did nothing for a long moment, then let out two words on a shuddering breath. "Oh, god." The urgency of the moment, of how much he loved her and needed her, hit him all over again. He swept her up in his arms and pushed through the door to his room, which was suddenly and conveniently right off the console room. He was more desperate than passionate as he laid her on the bed and crawled over her, pausing to swirl his nimble tongue in her belly button. Her stomach quivered as pleasant anticipation rolled through her, and he continued up her chest. He palmed one breast and brought his mouth to her nipple, flicking it quickly with his tongue until she was gasping. She felt her knickers growing damp as he sucked his way gently up her neck and then kissed her deeply, his tongue curling around hers as his fingertips settled on her temples and he gave it back to her in return: the full force of his loneliness after he lost her, all the nights he'd cried or sat with Donna, nursing the ache in his chest he knew would never heal.

Rose's reaction was similar to his: she froze, not breathing for a moment, and when she opened her eyes to meet his they both paused, then clutched each other violently, hands caressing cheeks, bodies pressing together, breath intermingling, each of them overwhelmed by the thoughts neither could currently express without constant telepathy. The force of his wanting stopped the Doctor from trying to establish a connection--he was too afraid to hurt her somehow, but her eyes betrayed her need for the link and it was torturing him.

Sensing she couldn't get what she was psychically seeking for the time being, Rose fumbled with the Doctor's trousers, undoing the button and then sliding the zipper down. She cupped him and he gently thrust his hard length against her hand, closing his eyes, lost in the sensation of the friction, lost in every moment and every way she was touching him. After a moment he backed away so he could slide down her body and finally undo her jeans properly. She lifted her hips to help him remove them and he did, but left her knickers on. He ran a hand lightly up and down one of her long legs and looked in her eyes with such a passionate look of appreciation that she squeezed her thighs together to relieve the anticipation building in her. 

He noticed, and gently parted her legs with his hand. He noticed that her inner thighs were damp when he traced his thumb around the outside border of the lace of her knickers. She squirmed and he slid the thumb up along her, parting her easily through the fabric. He circled her clit and the lace rubbed her in a way that made her groan. "Doctor...."

He squeezed his eyes shut again, exhaling in a way that let her know he was having a hard time controlling himself. He drew his hand away reluctantly and stood to shed his trousers and pants. With that out of the way he hovered over her again, her legs between his, and helped her slide off the last barrier between them. She bent her knees a little to help and flicked her eyes down his body fondly, over his long arms and lean torso and straining erection. She could see that his tip was shiny with precome. Another bolt of desire flooded her and the Doctor lowered himself to lick her centre softly, but without enough pressure to slide his tongue in and really taste her. She squirmed again and he looked up at her. "Sit on the edge of the bed," he said, tugging gently at her hips to encourage her.

She did as he asked without question and he kneeled in front of her. He lifted her legs onto his shoulders and released a pleased sigh as he dove toward her centre and began to lick her in earnest.

Rose moaned and grabbed his hair, pressing against the back of his head so he would increase the pressure of his tongue and teeth. He gladly did as she directed and she squeezed his head between her thighs, unable to stay still, giving herself over completely. It was all too much: the emotional buildup of the last week, everything they'd said and shown to each other that day, her complete mental and physical exhaustion breaking down every barrier. Her orgasm flashed through her suddenly, taking her by surprise with its strength. She cried out and bucked her hips against his face. He eased her through it with his tongue, his hands sliding over her sides and between her breasts.

As soon as she eased down from her high Rose pulled him up so she could kiss him. He kissed her back gratefully and she surprised him by forcing him back on the bed, rolling him over and swinging a leg over his waist. She waited for him to open his eyes, and when he did she slid her hand between them and stroked his cock, watching the pleasure roll through him. She found that this was what she needed: the control. She stroked him a second time and he thrust his hips up as her hand slid to the base. He grunted softly and let out a shaky breath and Rose quivered, conscious thought being replaced by need. She pressed him against her and slid him through her wetness once without allowing him to penetrate her, and he tensed and clutched her hips gently as if in warning that he couldn't take much more. 

She rocked forward on her knees and then back again, finally burying him in her, and he let out a long sigh of relief, his eyes fixed on hers, dark with urgency. "Rose...."

She leaned closer to his lips, changing the angle, so that she could feel his breath in her face. Their lips brushed as she rolled her hips against him. He hummed deep in his throat. "Yes?" she asked, not certain if he'd really meant to say anything but wanting to hear whatever he might offer in this particular moment.

His gaze skated over her neck, down over her breasts, and he gently pushed her to a sitting position so he could focus on where their connection was made. She lifted up and slid back down again with a twist. "Shit," he whispered, and cupped her breasts. He rolled her nipples softly between his thumbs and index fingers, making an urgent sound swell up in her. "Now might not be the right time to say it," he said, "because it'll sound like it's only because of...this...." he rocked his hips, hitting her in just the right spot, and she gasped. "But...I love you. I've always loved you, sweetheart. I'm always going to love you."

The desire in her eyes deepened, and before she could answer he rolled them over so quickly and efficiently she almost didn't have time to register it. He gently pushed her knees up toward her chest and began pumping in and out of her slower but harder, putting a little more impact behind each thrust. She keened with the building pressure of her imminent orgasm and he tilted her chin up to make sure their eyes met as they both drew closer to their mutual release. He pressed her bottom lip gently with one finger and she sucked it into her mouth. 

A thousand dirty and loving things raced through his mind, but he couldn't speak. 

Rose lowered her legs and began tilting her hips to meet each hard thrust. He slid his finger from her mouth and she said, "I'm so close...are you gonna come with me?"

He shuddered at her words and nodded his head.

She threw her head back and slid her legs around him to press him to her as tightly as she could, crying out, her hands finding his chest and settling over his hearts. 

He felt her tightening and he lowered his head as she cried out, the lock of hair over his forehead shivering as he strained against her and came with a gasp and a strangled moan. "Oh, fuck," he panted, completely undone by how good it felt. He lowered himself and clutched her warm body to his as they came down from the high, their breath slowing. 

He didn't pull back from her, resting his head against her breasts. They stayed locked in each other's arms even as he maneuvered them onto their sides so they were facing each other. They kissed gently and finally he slid from her; she was too wet for him to stay in.

They sighed contentedly into each other's faces, each letting their amazement show, and he brushed her hair out of her eyes. His look of awe changed slowly to fear. "Don't leave me."

"I was about to say the same to you," she said. There was no accusation in her voice; only a reflection of his apprehension.

He shook his head. "No." He pressed her close. "I'm stupid, Rose, but I'm not that bloody stupid. I mean, really...please...don't ever leave me."

"That's the plan," she said. She stroked his cheeks. "Oh, my stupid man...my impossible Doctor...that was always the plan."

His answering smile was just shy of his old one, but still unbearably infectious and sweet. 

She touched his lips. "I missed that."

He took her hand and placed it between his hearts. "Do you want to sleep?" he asked gently. "You should rest."

She looked like it was the best suggestion she'd ever heard. She nodded, but then faltered. "Are you going?"

"No," he said, and reached down to draw the duvet over them. He tucked it around her, trapping her tightly to him.

She cuddled into him with a deep sigh and he tucked her head under his chin. He stroked her hair until she fell asleep, and then he laid there for hours just listening to her breathe and feeling her warm curves against him, thinking of everything he might ever need to do to protect her, and bracing himself for it.

***

One day not long after, Rose came upon the Doctor in the hallway outside the infirmary. He was carrying--and struggling with--a stack of boxes.

"Doctor, where are you going with all that?" Rose asked, laughing.

He quickly raised a hand to shift a box before it could fall. "The incinerator."

"Can I help you?"

"Yeah, certainly. Grab that top one, will you?"

Rose took the box and could actually see his face. They smiled. "What is all this?" she asked. 

"Come on," he said, and lead the way. 

They stopped outside the chute to the incinerator and he set his boxes down, taking the one from her hands. "These are all your test results," he said. 

"Oh goodness," Rose said. Her eyes panned over the boxes. "All of them?"

"Yes. Comparisons, calculations...." he frowned. "My fear, my stupidity, my insecurities. That's what these are."

She put her hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, Doctor."

"No, not really," he said. "But I want it to be."

"You really want to get rid of all this?" 

He looked at her questioningly.

"I mean, _I_ do," she clarified. "You know how I feel about it, but...."

"Yes," he said. "I want to. I'm never going to leave you, Rose." He gave her a smile that was still mostly apologetic, and without further hesitation began loading the boxes into the chute. When he was finished he held his hand out to her. 

She took it and pulled him in closer.

***

"Are you two finally playing nice?"

The Doctor and Rose both grinned a bit stupidly as they approached Jack, who was sitting at the bar. He hopped off his stool to hug both of them, putting an arm around each of their necks. Rose made a strangled noise and threw her arms out as she was crushed a bit too hard. The Doctor tried to hide his annoyance with the handsy affection, rolling his eyes. "All right, all right," he said, though this was exactly the treatment he'd been expecting.

"Fine, fine, fine," Jack said, feigning exasperation as he released them and gestured toward the bar. "Sit. Drink. Tell me all about the wedding."

Rose giggled a bit awkwardly though she knew he was teasing. "We aren't married, Jack."

The Doctor grinned a little bashfully and ducked his head to hide it, but Jack saw and just grinned wider, if that was possible. 

"Uh huh," he said. 

"Thank you for talking some sense into him, though," Rose said playfully, nudging the Doctor.

"My pleasure. But I should note that I'm even handier in a game of naked Twister." He winked at their shocked expressions. "Okay, just pulling your legs. I wish it was in said game, but you know, maybe later." He gestured to the bartender. "We need alcohol now, please."

The Doctor had covered his face with one hand and was groaning. "Jack. This is painful." He peeked through his fingers as the shot of hypervodka landed in front of him. "Oh no no, not _that_ again."

"Hey, are we drinking or are we drinking?" Jack protested. "Just one, all right? A toast to you two finally getting your shit together. I think it's long overdue."

Rose set her empty shot glass on the bar.

 _"See!"_ Jack cried, smiling. "Point illustrated!"

The Doctor turned in his seat to look over his shoulder at her. "Whoa. Am I gonna have to carry you back to the TARDIS?"

Rose poked her tongue out at him. "I spent all morning cleaning endless sweets wrappers out of your never-ending transdimensional pockets, thank you very much. Think I'm entitled to a drink to celebrate how awesome I am for putting up with you."

The Doctor put on his best mock-affronted expression and held his hands up in front of his chest in surrender. "All right, two against one. You guys just want to get me drunk."

Rose poked his arm. 

"Hmm?" He leaned back toward her.

"Remember when Jack..." Rose continued, whispering in his ear, and after a moment both laughed loudly.

"Oooh, that's so not fair!" Jack said. "If you're going to tell a joke at my expense, at least let me in on it."

They were both laughing. Rose squeezed the Doctor's arm and he put his hand over hers, eyes shining in a way that had nothing to do with laughter-induced tears. Jack watched them and shook his head. "Nevermind," he said softly, smiling. "I don't need to know."

***

The amazement she saw in his face made him look younger and more innocent than she could remember ever seeing him; brighter. He lowered himself closer to her mouth and pressed his lips against hers in a closed-mouth kiss that was both tender and powerful, and as he did this he slid as deeply into her as he could.

She stroked her hand up the back of his neck and let her fingertips scratch from just below his hairline upward, her fingers tangling in his messy locks. He shivered and nudged her nose with his. "I love you," he said, very quietly. 

They looked into each other's eyes for a long time then, and his were still and sure. Rose tightened her legs around him and encouraged him by bucking her hips just a little harder, and his breath caught in a double hitch. He closed his eyes a moment in something like a reverential bliss and then opened them to fix her with a burning stare. They both felt the change and began responding purely on instinct, pulling at each other, thrusting harder, moaning noisily. After a minute or so of this they both fell apart, flooding each other and trembling. 

After they had stilled and lay stroking each other's bodies, it occurred to each of them, in different terms, that they weren't just making love but making good on something that was promised between them a long time ago without words.

In all the worlds, all the possibilities and all of time, he and Rose are the only equation that doesn't need math to make it work. They know that they are an art, not a science, and though it has taken the Doctor a long time to wrap his head around this, Rose had always known. He needs her around so that he can see these things, all the things that are beyond him. All the possibilities that he has grown jaded about over his nine hundred and six years. As they lie wordlessly together, hearts slowing and sweat cooling, he gently traces his fingers over her left hand. They pause when they feel the ring on her finger.

She curls her hand around his and asks him the question just to hear him answer. "How long are you gonna stay with me, Doctor?"

He leans on his arms to look at her properly. "Rose Tyler, I'm going to stay with you forever." 

"That isn't long enough," she says.

"No," he says, stroking her face. "It isn't. But we have a time machine."

She pulls the blanket over their heads playfully, and they get started on eternity. There isn't a moment to waste.

***

_This chapter is dedicated to all those who read and reviewed. Thanks so much! I hope you loved it._

_I just hope I didn't lose any readers with all the angst. :D I'm sorry. I promise some nice happy fluffy fics ahead, truly. I have one I wrote for Valentine's day that I'll post up soon._


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